


Everything Stays

by Elias (nightmareStag), katbutts



Series: Night Watch [2]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Also Izaya being super duper fucking gay, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Izaya's past sex life, Yay sequels, i don't know how to tag this omg, oh dear god, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmareStag/pseuds/Elias, https://archiveofourown.org/users/katbutts/pseuds/katbutts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two of the Night Watch Trilogy</p><p>Izaya is trying his damnedest to fix the relationships he's broken over the years all while making sure no one else finds out about his nightly activities.</p><p>Meanwhile, Itzal and Ursus are working towards fixing Itzal's rather unorthodox system of removing criminals, but what happens when all the progress they've made is shattered when bodies start piling up, looking like Itzal put them there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys weren't planning on waiting long for that smut cause woo-wee you're gonna be disappointed. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support in part one. I'm very happy to bring the introduction chapter to arc two, which is mainly a rough update on what's been going on in the past few months for everyones' favorite hero.
> 
> Oh and Itzal's there too.

“Itzal, that is not any better!” Ursus yells, lifting the car over in front of his body like a shield against the barrage of bullets. 

 

Bank robberies were a little juvenile in Izaya’s eyes, but this was better than just twiddling his thumbs with Ursus.

 

Izaya tosses the severed arm between his left and right hand like a game of hot potato, there’s blood and some muscle tissue dripping out of the stump, cut just above the elbow. He laughs at Ursus, obviously having a hard time controlling the car from the continued series of hits through his ‘shield.’

 

“Oh come on,” Izaya yells, waiting for the other robbers to attack him, “He looked like he wanted to loan us…  _ a hand!” _

 

“Now is not the time for your shitty puns, Itzal!” 

 

Ursus takes a few steps forward, dragging the car against the asphalt with him. Izaya drops the severed limb in his hands and shoves his elbow behind him, nailing the approaching menace in the stomach just below the ribs. Then he flips the offender over his shoulder and rams a pike through his thigh, taking special precautions not to flat out remove the limb like his buddy that's bleeding to death over there.

 

If that’s what kill him, well, at least it wasn’t Izaya.

 

They’ve been doing this for a while now- Ursus and him. It’s been about three months. They’ve become rather close to one another and Izaya would even go so far as to call him a friend at this point. Izaya knows that Ursus has a younger sibling. He think’s it’s a little brother, but he isn’t so sure. Helectric seems a bit annoyed at Izaya’s inclusion.

 

He couldn’t care less.

 

She’s just as rude and stuck up as any bottle blonde would be, and Izaya doesn’t care for her much. Ursus keeps trying to make them friends, pushing them into situations together where they need to work together to cause the least amount of casualties, similar to Shinra with himself and Shizuo. It’s  _ incredibly annoying _ . They seem to have a mutual understanding that they hated each other but would both choke it down to win Ursus’ favor. Izaya suspects that there may be a more than platonic emotion between the two of them, but Ursus is either too dumb to notice or, preferably, he knows she’s in love with him and is discreetly avoiding it. It makes another direct connection to the two, Ursus and himself- just he had a cute girl throwing herself at him and Izaya was stuck with a married man willing to go behind his loving wife’s back just to fuck him. 

 

The worst part of it is that Izaya allowed Shiki’s advances. He has no idea how to grasp the concept that he missed the wife. He thought he knew everything about Shiki, but he missed that he was married. Thankfully he found out before leaving with him to Europe, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t leave an ugly laceration on his young heart. He was seventeen. He had his whole life ahead of him, and he’s prepares to throw it all away for Shiki.

 

For love.

 

How tedious.

 

In any sense, Izaya should just forget it and accept the business casual relationship between Shiki and himself. It seems that Shiki had. 

 

Ursus wraps a hand around a lamp post and yanks it from the ground. He shoves his arm through the car’s undercarriage and picks it up. He swings the post like an actual sword, and Izaya is brought back to that metaphor of him being a knight. Izaya tosses a couple more villains in a pile on the other side of the street, then there’s the screech of the getaway car’s tires and Izaya takes off after it. He summons a wave to shoot into the engine and relatively disconnect it entirely. The car skids in a circle before slowing to a stop, and the drivers bolt from the vehicle. Izaya catches them, easy enough, slamming them into the shooters about to nail Ursus. It’s a party of unconscious people and Izaya is proud to be the host. He’s probably covered in much more blood than Ursus would like, but hey- beggars can’t be choosers, right?

 

Izaya picks up the severed hand before floating over to his friend, who fell to his knees to catch his breath since he was no longer under attack. Izaya holds it out to him knowing full well that the pale dead flesh would look like the white ice of his own skin, so when Ursus absentmindedly takes hold of it, Izaya drops it, the arm hitting the ground with a dull thud. Ursus lets out the most undignified screech and launches to the top of the tips over car, curling his arms and one of his legs away from the offending limb.

 

“What the fuck?!” Ursus barks, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Izaya is too busy cackling on the ground to respond. 

 

Ursus drops to the concrete beside Izaya and kicks him weakly in his torso, causing the laughing to stop abruptly. He picks up the arm with his foot then kicks it toward the pile of bodies. Once Izaya has composed himself, he notifies the police from a disposable phone. Izaya has started to  stockpile these, and taking them with him while out with Ursus. He keeps about fifteen at a time, holding them in the shadow realm for use as needed.

 

The police force absolutely hates Itzal, and Izaya couldn’t care less. Maybe not absolute hate, it’s more of a dubious negligence. They let Itzal fight, but they told Ursus while he was meeting with  Shintaro Ishihara, the mayor of Tokyo, that if he wants to keep the police from actively pursuing him and Itzal, then the murders needs to stop. And Izaya just loves to dance across those boundaries.

 

Izaya figures that Mr. Ishihara prefers that the only murderer be Itzal. After all, the ratio of criminals to whacked-out heros is rather preferable. However, raw amputations aren’t technically murder and if they die from blood loss that isn’t exactly Izaya’s fault. 

 

He smashes the phone with a pike mid-fall and leaves it, bouncing back to Ursus.

 

“I need a shower,” Ursus growls, still rubbing his hand on his suit.

 

“It wasn’t that bad, you big baby, my god.”

 

Ursus rips his head into Izaya’s direction, “It’s a severed  _ arm _ . You can’t just take people’s limbs off like that, Itzal.”

 

Izaya stick his hands up defensively, “If they would stop trying to kill me, I’d stop trying to indirectly kill them.”

 

“So you admit,” Ursus growls, “To  _ trying _ to kill them!”

 

Izaya shrugs, “Makes it easier.”

 

Ursus makes a motion like he wants to punch Izaya in the face before turning his back and sighing. He rubs his hands underneath his goggles exasperatedly before tugging them back onto his face. 

 

“Okay, look.” He sticks his hands on his hips, “I need to be to work early tomorrow and I’m sure you have a job outside of being a homicidal freak-”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes.

 

“Can you stay here until the police show up?”

 

Izaya contemplates telling him no. The sun is starting to rise and his head is pounding, but there’s so much pleading in his voice that Izaya can’t help but nod. 

 

Ursus almost collapses with relief, after having to fight Izaya on everything in these past few months, so to have him be so complacent is really a dream come true. He turns around and takes off, waving to Izaya once he’s just barely in his line of sight. 

 

It’s ironic really. Izaya is normally the one to leave. He sits on the door of the car and tries to tune out the crying from the pile of people behind him. He never realized how obnoxious they all really are. He’s starting to avoid them, deciding that Ursus is better company to him then all of these people in Tokyo. Of the humans Izaya associates with, Shinra is by far the most preferable, as he always has been. Now Izaya tends to third wheel it up when they have the occasional brunch, Izaya being too tired with the whole superhero thing to be awake before eleven anyway. 

 

He talked to Kyohei- actually  _ talked _ to him -for the first time in a few years. Apparently they were a lot more okay than Izaya perceived. He was incredibly relieved, but still. It appeared to Izaya that his Dotachin saw Izaya as rather dispensable, which was more insulting than he wanted to let on. Izaya believed that back in highschool, Izaya had been very close to Kyohei. Izaya was terrible at history and Kyohei was even worse in math, so the two went in tandem with one another, cheating and cramming for test into the late hours of the evening. Around junior year, Izaya served as a starter piece to sexual experimentation, but this time with Kadota. That was more odd, and while, like Shinra, he and Kyohei had agreed there was no love between them, but Kyohei tended to treat Izaya like he was an object when they would sleep together. He was nothing but harsh tugs and claiming bites on a piece of meat he had no intentions of claiming. After all, that’s all Izaya was to him. 

 

However, when the two weren’t having sex, it was a complete one-eighty. Kyohei became Dotachin, and looked at Izaya with a friendly kindness that clashed violently to the cruelty in his eyes when they fucked. He would do those friendly type things, like pat Izaya’s head to praise him, and wake him up if he happened to sleep in class. He would share his snacks with Izaya and allow Izaya to cling to him like Kyohei was his boyfriend. There never would be, of course, as Izaya couldn’t fall in love with someone who could toss him aside so easily. 

 

He feels like he  _ knew.  _ He knew that he was replaceable to Kyohei, but he had never had it stare him so blankly in the face as when he went to apologize. And to be honest, Izaya wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. Kyohei and his friends have been affected by Izaya’s plans, however that was more of a trickle down effect than direct inclusion. He had apologized anyway, however, saying he was sorry he had allowed them to drift so far apart. Dotachin had brushed it off, claiming that he had “barely noticed.” It was something Izaya would say, and therefore, hurt much more than he thought it would. It was something he would say to Saki. He decided he should check up on her soon. 

 

Conveniently, that meant they were having dinner later today. They actually dated. It was possibly Izaya’s only romantic relationship in high school. Infact, the two had never even come close to sleeping together. She kissed him once outside of the main gates at Raira, but aside from hand holding and the off handed hug, that was about it. He wondered how Masaomi had been treating her. He misses her. 

 

Maybe not. 

 

He misses the purity their relationship held. It was so innocent and clean, that in all honesty, Izaya regrets losing her to Masaomi.

 

Police sirens screech through the chilly air. Given the plummeting temperatures of winter, the city was substantially less active. It was part of what made Christmas so nice, at least in Izaya’s eyes. 

 

Oh god, he’s gonna have to go to dinner with his parents next week. Maybe Christmas wasn’t so nice after all.

 

Offi cer Kuzuhara flashes his headlight at the bottom of the car Izaya is sitting on. 

 

“God damn  _ heroes, _ ” he spits the word as if it was poison in his mouth, “You’re no better than the criminals you’re killing.”

 

Izaya doesn’t talk to police officers, too worried about the teasing whine in his voice to come out during the discussion. He signs to them instead.

 

“None of them were dead when we were done.”

 

Kinnosuke snorts, pulling his stupid ascot over his mouth to block the cold. “You know that none of us have any idea what the hell you’re saying when you do that.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes.

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re that damn headless rider.”

 

Izaya immediately clenches and unclenches his fists. There was no reason that this measly cop should be pulling his personal vendeta with Celty into how he deals with Izaya. There’s one EMT that knows sign language. She’s a sweet girl. Izaya doesn’t know her name, but she is always more than willing to play translator. So when the ambulance pulls into the alcove of the bank’s parking lot, She practically sprints to Izaya and Kinnosuke.

 

“Hi,” She pants, “What did I miss.”

 

“I can’t be the headless rider. I have a dick.” Izaya signs to her, and he almost laughs at the bright red blush that dusts her face.

 

She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times trying to find a coherent thought to respond with.

 

“I-I… I-is the headless rider not a m-male?” She stuttered indignantly.

 

“They don’t have a penis,” Izaya signs smiling like a cat under his suit. 

 

He never really considered asking for Celty’s pronouns, so he figured “they” was the safest bet. This poor sweet girl was going to have a conniption over Izaya’s lewd comments, and he felt a little bad about it actually. 

 

“A-a-alright um…” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, counting back from ten. Then she turns back to the police officer. “ _ He _ is not the headless rider.”

 

“So what? You’re just some punk in a spandex suit?”

 

Izaya nods, and blows a kiss to the EMT before taking off straight up, allowing the moon to cast his silhouette onto the officers and ambulances below him before pulling their shadows to cloud around him in the same bubble he enclosed that boy, Hisato, and his mother, and poofing away with an ear shattering smack.

 

He appeared back in his apartment, willing off his shoes to an entirely black outfit of lazy day shorts and an oversized t-shirt. And he flops on his bed, his mind swimming with thoughts of Ursus. Ursus had become his default thought process, rather than his job, or anything else. Izaya found himself constantly drifting back to him. 

 

God… he was something else entirely. He was so bold and bright that he stood out in the sea of grey relationships. He was  _ exciting _ and  _ dangerous _ . He was stunning and so much nicer than Izaya had expected. He was kind and sweet and so, so painfully loyal. And those muscles were more than lean. A few nights ago, when he picked Izaya up bridal style to carry him away from the scene, it took everything Izaya had to not pop a boner right then and there. But now that he was alone, there was no harm in letting his mind wander.

 

His back hits his bed with a dull thud, his left hand immediately swinging to the small compartment in between his mattress and his bed frame. He’s gotten to know the sex toy fairly well, given that these late night masturbation sessions have become a regular thing. Izaya shoves a hand into the hem of his basketball shorts and wraps his fingers around the base of his quickly hardening dick. He gives it a few harsh tugs, hissing under his breath. 

 

This is all fine and good, however he wanted to come, not draw this out. Ripping his shirt off and pulling his shorts to his ankles, Izaya reaches for the lube tucked in the same section as the dildo. He pours a rather generous amount and coats the sex toy. The head is smooth and sleek. Spiraling ridges carve into the shaft itself with the base being a nice flat surface perfect for sticking to walls or just as a handle. At the moment, it’s the latter. Once it’s slicked up nicely, Izaya uses his wet hand to give himself a few good pumps while he lines up the toy. The blunt head is always the hardest to get in, but Izaya manages to push it. His body should be used to the intrusion by now. Izaya squeezes his eyes shut, his inner masochist absolutely screaming in delight at the stretch. He tugs it out to the tip just as quickly and shoves it back in. 

 

It  _ burns _ with that same violent fire that Ursus emanates during confrontation. Ghost hands wrap firmly around his hips, and Izaya is sure he can smell the cinnamon spiced vanilla of Ursus’ chest. It’s easy to picture him when he opens his eyes- compact muscles under tight skin the same golden color as that hard jawline. That perfect jawline that connects to that thick neck… and it’s not like those tights leave much up to the imagination. He’s thick, even flaccid, so that makes it even easier for Izaya to let his fantasy run wild. 

 

He wants to know everything about Ursus. He sounds like distant thunder, the vibrations of his growl yanking a shiver down his spine and making his hand falter with the toy, tossing his head back onto the pillow with a gasp. He thinks about the way he says  _ Itzal _ and mentally he turns that to  _ Izaya _ and he picks up the pace- imagining the harsh thrust of Ursus’ hips meeting his own. 

 

He’s moaning now, thrusting his hips down on the toy and up into his fist. Ursus’ name is spilling from his lips like a mantra. He can’t even think of any shame he would feel if his  _ friend _ saw him like this. It feels too good, and there’s too much longing desire for him to care. Izaya wants him- he  _ needs _ him. He wants Ursus on every physical platform and the second he thinks he’ll taste the same as the sickeningly sweet scent he emanates, Izaya comes, gyrating his hips to ram the sex toy into his prostate while he screams Ursus’ name to his empty apartment. 

 

Everything is white, the pure intensity of the heat blinding his muscles as tugs the toy out with an audible pop. He retrieves his shirt from earlier and wipes the come off his bare chest, exhaustion already tugging at his muscles. Damn that refractory period. If not for that twenty minute break, Izaya would go again, but it’s closer to six than four, so Izaya wipes off the toy and tosses it back into the side of his bed along with the lube. He tosses the soiled shirt into the laundry basket tucked beside his door and pulls his shorts back up. Izaya pulls the blanket over his body and closes his eyes- lying to himself that he doesn’t want to feel those strong arms pull him into a warm chest as he lulls to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not super important but the person who is posting this chapter here on AO3 is me, wolfpoots! Hi guys. Hope I don't jack it up. More important notes at the end from the author. :>

The alarm screeches sooner than he would have liked. Izaya never really had to use an alarm on a regular basis, but now that he’s going out every night and returning at about four in the morning, there is no way he’s even going to attempt getting out of bed by himself. Namie likes to complain that ten is too late for someone to be setting an alarm, but she thinks he’s going to bed at around midnight, when he’s really leaving his house around then. At least he hasn’t been catastrophically injured for a while, which is actually really great considering his previous track record. 

 

He hops in the shower and sighs in contentment. Oh, how the god has fallen. In the past few months Izaya has gone from human to monster, and from there to a monster with incredibly human characteristics. He’s become so human in the last couple of weeks alone- giving in to things like lust and emotions. Namie starts to ask questions about Izaya’s shaking. He’s too caffeinated for his own good, and doesn't have a suitable outlet for it until she leaves, so she questions him in the most undignified of ways, and has even brought up his nonexistent sex life. 

 

He’s bored in the evening, when alone in the silence of his apartment. The shadow voices don’t bother him as much, making his isolation a thousand times more evident. He performs menial tasks, most recently just something as simple as- he hates the phrase - “working out”, just  _ something _ to pass the time. Namie started complaining about the smell of cleaning products around the eighth night Izaya had deep cleaned his already spotless apartment. 

 

But the excitement and joy that flooded his system when he sees those copper goggles, despite how much he hates them, have him forgetting his previous loneliness. Izaya had always been a creature of habit, so to have that be ruptured in the smoothest way, he couldn’t be more content! Ursus was everything Izaya didn’t know he wanted in his life! He was the Sherlock to his Watson- The Ruby to his Sapphire. Ursus was forcing him to crave everything Izaya had told himself he never needed, and Izaya had no intentions to stop him. It was comforting to know that Izaya could give up some of his control and would still leave feeling safe. 

 

Stepping out of the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, he pads into his closet. He tugs on a plain, black-sleeved baseball tee and the first pair of black jeans he could find. Izaya was having lunch with Saki in about half an hour and wanted to look at least slightly presentable. He wondered how Masaomi had been treating her. Despite what Izaya has done to her, he really did care for her. However, his attraction to her was something more akin to an older brother than any lovers they could have been. He loved her, of course, but in a similar way that he loved his little sisters. 

 

If only they could listen to his advice like she did. 

 

After toweling his hair and musing it to his liking, Izaya skipped down the stairs to Namie, looking ever so gratuitous to the fact that Izaya had been taking a plethora of days off in order to spend time with his old friends. He doesn’t dwell on his guilt too long, deciding with a confident smile that he’ll start hacking away at her brash defenses once he’s sure he’s got a good grip on everyone else. After all, his relationship with his secretary is kind of a train wreck considering she knows enough about Izaya to absolutely  _ decimate _ him.   

 

“Morning!” He laughs, in a sing-song sort of way that makes her wanna kick him in the throat.

 

“It’s after eleven. It stopped being morning a few hours ago.” Namie growls back. “What the hell have you been doing to keep you sleeping in until this late anyway?”

 

Izaya doesn’t answer.

 

“... Should I say  _ who _ then?” she says, putting a practiced emphasis on the word. 

 

Izaya rolls his eyes as he tugs on his coat. “It’s nothing of the sort. I don’t work during the day, so I play catch up at night.”

 

Which is a bull-faced lie, but he can’t exactly let Namie in on the whole superhero thing. However, when Izaya sets his mind to something, the amount of determination that sets in the entirety of his being is near frightful. Years of procrastinating in high school have trained him so that when a deadline approaches Izaya can normally turn two weeks worth of research down to about two hours. From there, it’s just minor tweaks before he returns the file of information back to his client.

 

Izaya tosses a wave over his shoulder to Namie- choosing not to mention that she’s playing Minesweeper rather than anything productive either, so it’s not like she can bitch at him.

 

It’s the little things that remind Izaya of the plentiful joys in his life. The sun hits his face, and humanity is brimming with an unnatural sense of peaceful serenity. It’s almost worrisome, given the fact that anyone who’s lived in the Tokyo area long enough is probably seeing this as the calm before the storm. However, for the first time in a long time, Izaya’s hands are clean. His normal vexatious behavior is coming up empty, and it’s actually a lot more calming than he would originally have thought. Izaya was sure that clearing his plate of ulterior motives to the innocent would have left him itching for a disaster. However, he feels nothing but a comfortable placidity, so when Izaya sees a baby girl smile at him with a blind ignorance to his reputation, he smiles and waves to her in an audacious sort of way that surprises not only the mother, but himself. He was happy and satisfied with himself and his current connections for the first time in a long time. 

 

Of course, there was still Shiki, but he didn’t exactly count. Shiki was asking for Izaya’s rather treacherous calculational skills and his violent disregard for the safety of the people around him. It was through that connection that Izaya became one of the most feared men in the eastern hemisphere. Just a mention of the informant of Shinjuku can cast fear in the hearts of anyone from the layman to the highest of government officials.

 

He knows he has to be careful- dealing with the Awakusu is bad enough, but now Izaya is trying to fuck over one of their executives all while simultaneously keeping Itzal’s identity a secret and keeping Ursus from harm.

 

He worries that maybe Ursus knows who Izaya Orihara is and the bad rep that seems to emanate from him in an ugly sort of way. And if he found out who Itzal really was, he wouldn’t want anything to do with him. It was for the best really- if he found out who Itzal was, then Ursus would find out why Izaya had pursued him in the first place. While Izaya knew he no longer wants to destroy Ursus, his reputation would catch up to him in the long run. 

 

Oh well. 

 

Normally one to plan ahead, he decides that he doesn’t wanna think about it. This is a just another bridge he’ll cross when he gets to it. 

 

He pushes the door of the cafe open, and welcomes the thick aroma of black coffee. God, he could never get enough of it. Saki is sitting at the other end of the shop, sipping on a vanilla cappuccino, and staring out of the window at the people passing by. She glances up when she hears Izaya tell the host that he’s meeting someone. She smiles and stands up, pushing her hands down her pink dress to flatten it out, and opens her arms in a hug Izaya doesn’t exactly want to take. 

 

He does anyway. It would be rude to leave her hanging given that she wasted a year of her life in the hospital on his command. Izaya pats her back awkwardly, and let’s go almost as quickly as she gripped on. and pushes her chair in for her when she sits down. Taking the seat across from her, Izaya nods to the waitress who’s asking for his order.

 

“So,” Izaya forces a smile, “How have you been?” 

 

“I’ve been alright. I was a little surprised when you called. I would have thought that Masaomi would have been upset about me coming here to meet you, but he said that he was fine with it,” Saki says, concern carved into her face as she sips her coffee again.

 

“I’m trying to rebuild my bridges,” Izaya says. “That’s all.” 

 

“Are you sure?” She asks, looking at Izaya with a certain pointed hardness in her eyes that Shinra got when he saw Izaya’s self harm scars in middle school. “I want to be absolutely sure that you are doing this for your own well being and not because of…”

 

She looks away.

 

“A shortened life line.”

 

This has certainly been a turn of events. Izaya figured if he was gonna get this speech from anybody, it would have been Shinra. However,  she also knew that Izaya had a few problems with himself and how all of those knives had lashed his thighs and hips with battlefields of thin pink scars. There were only three people that knew about them and acknowledged them: Shinra, Saki, and Kyohei. It actually surprised Izaya that Shiki hadn’t said anything about it- considering his hands and face had been in or around that area almost daily for a few years. Regardless, sentiment did tug something in his ever so calloused heart, and while he didn’t know why, he took a hold of her hands, much smaller and warmer than his own, and made sure she looked him in the eyes when he spoke.

 

“I’m fine,” He whispered. “At least much better off than I used to be.”

 

Apparently that was enough, because she smiled at him almost radiantly. She really was a pretty girl.

 

“Here you are, sir,” The waitress sets a large black coffee in front of him, and Izaya almost cries. 

 

Okay,  _ maybe _ he has a problem, but he was exhausted beyond belief and has to go back out tonight, so the caffeine was always a plus. 

 

A sip isn’t exactly the right word for what Izaya did to that cup. It was more akin to chugging it, removing the cup from his lips once it was half empty. It was actually terrible. The coffee was flavored like a strange type of chocolate, and it was hotter than was probably safe to drink- but Izaya was tired and really needed it. 

 

Saki is staring at him incredulously like a deer in the headlights. Once again, there’s a gleam of concern in her eyes. Izaya pulls on a lopsided smile and sips his coffee again, actually wincing this time. He can deal with the burn- but it tastes like ass. He swiveles his cup around a little, mixing up the coffee a bit before taking another sip. The real question here is whether or not Izaya is desperate enough to grit his teeth and order another cup. 

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Saki asks, tilting her head a bit and her hands wrap firmly around her cup.

 

“I’ve been really swamped at work.” Izaya lies. “I guess sleep has been getting away from me.”

 

Saki smiles a little and sips her drink as Izaya finishes his with a grimace.

 

“How are you and Masaomi?”

 

She seems to hesitate slightly before putting her cup down, a swatch of pink blush dusting her cheeks.

 

“We’re fine.”

 

Izaya isn’t satisfied with her answer. “Is he treating you okay?”

 

He knows he’s prying, but if Kida is gonna try and hurt Saki anymore than Izaya already has, he’s gonna have hell to pay. 

 

“Of course! He’s very kind and always makes sure I’m doing well.” 

 

“That’s good,” Izaya says, sounding more like a teacher that cares too much than an ex-boyfriend who almost got her killed. 

 

That was all Izaya really wanted- to make sure she was healthy and okay, and now that he’s out of questions… there’s such an awkward silence that makes Izaya tempted to simple stand up and leave. It’s like those silences that follow Ursus leaving Izaya and Helectric alone together for an extended amount of time, both knowing that they have a mutual distaste, but still tolerating the presence of the other. It’s not that Izaya doesn’t like Saki- He just doesn’t like these uncouth situations. 

 

She coughs, which drags his eyes to her face. She’s staring down at her cup, seeming equally grossed out at the current lack of conversation, but luckily their waitress returns, breaking the silence and asking Izaya if he would like another cup.

 

Saki chuckles a bit when Izaya’s face darkens as he says yes. 

 

“What kind of work have you been doing?” Saki asks, suddenly more chipper than she was a second ago.

 

And Izaya is reminded of some song lyrics he heard a while ago. “ _ The torture of small talk- with someone you used to love _ .” He can’t place the song, but makes a mental note to look it up later. The coffee is placed down in front of him. 

 

“Just more informant junk.” Izaya sighs, weighing his options.

 

“Have you heard about the new hero?” She asks.

 

He knows it’s meant to be nonchalant- just passing conversation. However, that doesn’t seem to quell the shiver that rakes up his spine.

 

“Itzal?” he asks, trying his damnedest to sound slightly inquisitive, rather than wanting to change the discussion topic immediately.

 

“Yeah,” Saki smiles, “I know he’s kind of a murderer and whatever, and apparently he’s a jerk to the police, but I think he’s really doing some good out there.”

 

She seems sincere, and Izaya is definitely thankful for her support, even if she doesn’t know who she’s giving it to.

 

“I’d like to meet him some day and give him my thanks.”

 

Izaya’s phone pings, a welcome excuse to leave before this gets any more awkward, manifesting in a text from Shinra. He tells Saki that an emergency has come up at work, and that while he very much enjoyed catching up with her, he needs to leave. And for a second, she looks a little somber, but then she smiles and nods in understanding. Izaya tosses much more money than would be necessary to pay for their shitty drinks and dashes back out onto the street. Already the air seems cleaner.

 

He didn’t even read Shinra’s text message, simply deciding to just go over to his house and find out what he wanted. He’s feeling good- which is really ironic considering the way he just left Saki like that. The people around him aren’t avoiding him like they normally do, however that normally sinister cloud that tends to surround him hasn’t been around for a while either, and he really hopes it stays like that. Everything feels crisp and clean and pu- 

 

The crowd scatters in the collision. Aluminum meets concrete just a hair in front of Izaya’s feet- nearly taking him out. The street sign is jagged and bent at the pole, probably something Shizuo just grabbed and chucked in his direction. And there he is, panting heavily in the now deserted intersection, Shizuo Heiwajima straightens up and literally  _ screams _ Izaya’s name. For a second, there’s a thought, a comeback of sorts. But Izaya decides that calling back, “Wanna come back to my place, I’ll really make you scream my name,” isn’t the best thing to do in this situation, so he hides his snark thoughts under a maniacal smirk. 

 

“I thought I told you to stay the  _ fuck _ out of Ikebukuro.”

 

Izaya tsks, “You don’t own the city.” 

 

“Shut up, you shitty parasite,” he growls. “It doesn’t matter whether I own it or not- Stay away from me!”

 

“Shizuo, as much as I  _ used _ to love playing with you, I have more important things to do than get you to chase my tail for a while,” Izaya sighs. 

 

It had been a while since he had seen Shizuo, and if he was being honest, he missed the absolute rush that he got from their interactions. Regardless, he knows that if he allows this altercation to get any more violent, then it’ll backtrack the construction he’s been doing on all the bridges he’s destroyed. There’s no way he’s gonna let Shizuo ruin everything he has so carefully built around himself. Shizuo is the shake of the table under the tower of playing cards that he doesn’t want and doesn’t need. 

 

“Everybody keeps on fucking talking about you and all these  _ good deeds _ you’ve been doing, and I wanna know what the fuck is up.”

 

“Maybe I had a change of heart, Shizuo,” If he makes that fish face every time Izaya says his name, he’s gonna get it tattooed on his chest.

 

“Bullshit!” he sneers, and Izaya is remembering why he didn’t like this guy in the first place. 

 

He’s so  _ annoying _ . Izaya honestly can’t believe that when he’s doing exactly what Shizuo has been asking him to do, that idiot is  _ still _ finding a reason to be pissy with him. Frankly he’d like to ignore it for the time being rather than act on it now, however it’s kind of difficult to do that when the offending person in question is currently standing in front of him with the ever so innocent street sign being wielded like a goddamn club. 

 

“Look,” Izaya snaps a tad louder than he would have preferred, “You and I both know how this is gonna end- You’re gonna chase me, probably break some shit, and I’m gonna outrun you like it’s nothing and carry on about my business.” 

 

There’s a touch of fear in Shizuo’s eyes that just barely reminds Izaya that info broker, Orihara Izaya, doesn’t swear, and he thinks he’ll bitch at Ursus for soiling his good name tonight.

 

“This time is different, rat!” 

 

Izaya sighs, “Yes. Yes it is. Because I’m done here. I don’t have time for this anymore.”

 

And just like that he turns and leaves. 

 

While, yes, Shizuo seeing Izaya’s back isn’t anything weird or out of the ordinary, Izaya just casually strolling away, like he’s got more important things to do that stand here and entertain Shizuo, is. He doesn’t need stupid Shizuo to play with anymore because he’s got real friends now that enjoy his company. Izaya doesn’t need someone around who always points out his flaws, or someone that claims to understand just so they can turn around and call them heartless, and freak, and  _ flea _ \- Especially when Shizuo couldn’t be more wrong.

 

He doesn’t turn around, but Izaya can feel the melancholy that rips through that dumbass like a bolt. He expects violence, and is prepared to run for it. It doesn’t come. Instead Shizuo is… following him? Izaya doesn’t turn around, knowing that Shizuo is anything but predictable and once again, he mentally curses him for exceeding his expectations. 

 

Izaya cuts through a desolate pathway just to see if Shizuo is really following him. Unfortunately, yes. He followed him down the alleyway he obviously had no business being down and Izaya decides that this just won’t do. He turns the corner and flicks out his knife, stopping Shizuo in his tracks before the blade can puncture his throat as he turns around the wall.

 

“Can I help you?” Izaya asks, irritation dripping through his voice.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He doesn’t elaborate, and Izaya’s eye starts to twitch.

 

“With what?!” He yells, pressing the tip of the knife just a bit further into his neck. A drop of blood drips down his neck.

 

“I wanna know what everyone is screaming about.”

 

Izaya pulls a face. “What do you mean?”

 

“Everyone keeps talking about how you’ve changed, and how you’re trying to ‘be a better person’” Shizuo accentuates that last bit and rolls his eyes immediately afterwards. “I wanna know why. You’re the biggest piece of shit to ever grace this Earth, and there is no way you just developed a sense of empathy overnight.”

 

“It wasn’t overnight, Shizuo,” Izaya hisses, flicking the blade back into its handle and depositing it into his jacket pocket.

 

“And for that matter,” Shizuo yells, “What the hell is up with you calling me by my name?”

 

Izaya tilts his head to the side innocently, “You always seemed to get so angry when I called you Shizu-chan. So I figured it’d bother you less if I called you by your actual name. Would you prefer Shizu-san? It kinda erases the familiarity, but if that’s what you’d prefer!” 

 

Izaya sticks on his best winning smile as a vein ripples out of Shizuo’s temple. 

 

“Don’t,” He growls, “Call me anything. Stay away from me, you cockroach.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes. “I’m not the one who followed the other.” 

 

Shizuo drives his fist through the brick wall beside them, sending debris flying between the two and splitting the skin on Shizuo’s knuckles. Izaya doesn't move. He doesn’t even flinch. That’s what a coward would do. And he was tipped off by his shadows, which have started dancing in the overhang of the buildings they’re hidden between. Shizuo looks a little confused, and maybe a touch frightened when the dust clears and Izaya is staring at Shizuo like a mother berating a disrespectful child. Afterall, that’s what he’s acting like.  _ A child _ .

 

Shizuo retracts his fist and pulls it to his chest, wrapping his other hand around it gently. “You’re really done with this. Aren’t you?”

 

“I’ll get to you once all of my cards are in order, Shizuo.”

 

Izaya doesn’t really understand what that light that flickered through Shizuo’s eyes was; or why it was there in the darkness that clouded them to begin with.

 

“Fine,” he sighs and turns without another word, leaving a very confused Izaya alone in the alley. 

 

Even the whispers in his head have gone quiet in favor of the cogs and gears grinding against one another. What the hell was that all about? He almost sounded…  _ hurt _ at the prospect of Izaya just flat out stopping whatever this was. It isn’t anywhere near a break up, but dejected is the only word Izaya could describe Shizuo’s disposition with just now. It was ridiculous, to say the least, and Izaya decides that Shizuo has always been weird, and that this little tiff was just another example of that. 

 

Izaya figures he’ll ponder it later, and continues his trek to Shinra’s. He still hasn’t even checked his phone aside from the notification he received originally. He feels so much anger and bitter confusion as he’s skipping down these dark little pathways, a walking oxymoron. He’s just on the edges of the bustling urban center just outside of his current space. Understandably, his path is much quieter and the whispers come back. It’s mainly nonsensical, just crying and the occasional word of help, begging for release. Izaya momentarily entertained the notion that he’s hearing  _ Hell _ . Just constant pleading for the pain to stop and to be  _ released _ \- whatever the fuck that means. Izaya doesn’t particularly care. He came in contact with one of his nannies recently and she told him that he would regularly talk to dark corners in the mansion he grew up in when he was younger. Maybe he was around four when it started. Maybe it’s always been there.

 

He isn’t sure and he’s never been sure. Frankly, he isn’t sure he even wants to know. It’s like when they diagnose a tumor and propose a surgery. Doctors always ask the patient not to look up the statistics, but Izaya feels that if he were to be diagnosed with some form of cancer tomorrow he would. However this isn’t exactly a life or death situating as much as Izaya’s own nonsensical ramblings. 

 

The December air is nipping at his skin to the point of being uncomfortable and Izaya’s fingers are starting to shake. He skips up the wooden stairs to Shinra’s apartment and knocks happily, glad to have the distraction from his possibly dangerous thoughts. Shinra tugs the door open, looking a little frazzled and he glances back and forth in the empty hallway before ripping Izaya into his apartment. 

 

Celty is sitting still as a statue with her hands in her lap and Shinra starts pacing back and forth around his living room. He runs a hand through his hair and halts directly in front of Izaya.

 

“Two things,” He starts, “One, What the hell did you do to Shizuo?”

 

Izaya pulls a face. There’s no way Shizuo managed to get here and rant about their most previous conversation before Izaya showed up- Let alone leave without making a disaster.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What do I-” He throws his hands up. “Shizuo said that you kissed him! And on top of that, he’s been blowing up Celty’s phone about some exchange you two had?!”

 

“Really? I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Did it really effect him that much?” Izaya asks, honestly surprised that Shizuo would dwell on it so heavily..

 

Celty’s phone vibrates in her lap.

 

“Why?” Shinra sighs, rubbing his hands underneath his glasses, “I just wanna know…  _ why _ ?”

 

“Well really, it’s because I was trying to keep my furniture on the roof without him noticing, and he started to look up at it,” Izaya smiles, trying to be earnest.

 

Shinra shoots him a quizzical look but rolls his eyes and continues on anyway. “... Alright aside from  _ that _ ,” he spits, “Shiki has been coming over a lot more.”

 

Izaya perks up a bit, pulling on a fake smile and hoping his distaste doesn’t break through his façade. 

 

“That isn’t that weird- he has a copy of my house key after all, but recently he’s been coming over and asking about you.”

 

Celty’s phone pings again. She reads the text, a poof of smoke shooting out of her neck in a way that conveys surprise. She writes out a response, keeping her phone hidden from both Shinra and Izaya. He doesn’t seem to notice, but Izaya is suddenly very piqued thanks to her sudden secrecy.

 

“Yeah he’s asking weird stuff about when we were in high school. I figured he would have known everything, considering you rode his dick practically every day of senior ye- Ow!”

 

Izaya drives his fist into Shinra’s arm, and Celty is sporting a reflection of equal parts horror and shock.

 

“It wasn’t every day,” Izaya seethes, grinding his teeth into an abrasive grimace. 

 

Celty’s shoulders shake into a giggle, but she sobers up when her phone pings again. Izaya really wants to see what Shizuo is saying about him. What if it’s something good? What if it’s something weird? It doesn’t matter- he wants to know. 

 

Izaya asks, “What did you tell him?”  

 

“Nothing I didn’t think he wasn’t already aware of,” Shinra sighs. “He wasn’t even asking stuff about you directly he was asking about weird stuff like your relationship with your parents-”

 

“And you said?”

 

“I said it wasn’t good, but I didn’t elaborate beyond that.” Shinra starts to make tea for the three of them and Izaya takes the opportunity to trace his eyes back to Celty.

 

And she is still typing up a response to Shizuo. It’s either super long or she’s trying to figure out what to say. Either way, he doesn’t like being so close to something that could be so incredibly, dramatically life changing without having any idea what was going on. 

 

“Then he started asking about you and me and when we met. I didn’t know you told him about the biology club in middle school.” Shinra doesn’t sound angry, more confused. “I didn’t know that you like  _ actually loved him _ . I thought you just loved his money, but if you were willing to actually open up like that- I mean… I can’t think of anyone else you would just open yourself up to like that. I never figured you were the ty-”

 

“Okay, we’re gonna stop talking about my romantic history with him! Thank you!” Izaya interjects.

 

“Point being, he’s getting all kinds of personal about you and I just…” Shinra takes a deep breath. “I want you to be careful, okay? I just got you back, and it would be really shitty if I lost you to him again.”

 

Izaya tucks his head down and stares at the floor. He always hated when Shinra would try and get all touchy-feely with him. It makes his skin crawl. Plus, with Celty looking at him as if he just grew a second head, the already tense situation is just becoming much more uncomfortable. He figures that she didn’t know that he and Shiki had been…  _ involved _ to say the least.

 

It was never any of her business, but Izaya understands her confusion. He just hopes to whatever god is smiting him now that she doesn’t tell Shizuo about it.

  
Her phone pings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes from Author: We are not keeping the Raira squad at their normal ages. Mikado, Masaomi, Anri, and Saki are all around their twenties. For example, Saki is four years younger than Izaya, making her 19. I thought of Izaya more being the senior poking around the impressionable freshman class, so they were together then, however, Izaya was actually bending between being with Shiki and Saki when he was seventeen, and ended up sending Saki after Masaomi around winter break, so he spent the last half of his senior year being led around like a stray puppy by Shiki.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fjfrjererjjrgejejkrjngrjn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to drop the line that they have known each other for a few months and now trust each other enough to participate in this activity.
> 
> All of you know the aren't getting any action anyway
> 
> Think of it more as Ursus and Itzal being an unrestricted version of Izaya and **who ever Ursus is though I'm sure you al already know** 
> 
> When they're in their hero personas, they don't have to worry about making a fool of themselves because- let's be honest, those suits are already doing that for them.

Ursus is a blushing mess beside Izaya, his entire face practically glowing cherry red even in the dark cover of night. His hands are coiled into fists at his side while Izaya is leaning incredibly close to his friend, glancing up at Ursus from underneath his hood.

 

“W-Why the hell would it matter?” Ursus stutters in one of the most undignified of ways.

 

“‘Cause I’m curious. I’ll take from your blush that that’s a no.”

 

Ursus looks away from him, “Have you..?” It’s barely above a whisper.

 

“Of course I’ve had a blow job before,” Izaya says smiling confidently, “Though I will admit, I much prefer to be at the giving end than be receiving.”

 

Ursus rips his head to stare at Izaya.

 

“Why would you rather give?”

 

“Cause I have an oral fixation.”

 

Ursus pulls a face. “An oral what?”

 

“Fixation!” Izaya answers, sticking his finger up matter-of-factly. “It essentially means it gets me off- at least in this aspect.”

 

Ursus stays silent, staring blankly over the edge of the skyscraper to the alley way below. Izaya pushes himself off taking notice to how Ursus makes a motion like he’s gonna grab him to save him from the fall. Izaya floats around Ursus’ legs and hovers above his face, maybe a few inches separating them.

 

Izaya places a black hand on a white knee and leans into Ursus’ ear, “I can show you what it feels like.”

 

Izaya has never been one to beat around the bush- and Ursus isn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box to begin with. He is, however, a blushing mess when he stutters out that it’s “quite alright” and that “he doesn’t need Itzal to do that for him.”

 

Izaya laughs kind-heartedly, “It’s not like I’m asking to be your wife, Ursus. Think of it as a… a _brojob_.”

 

“Did you-” Ursus breaks off into a fit of giggles, “‘Brojob!’ Really?”

 

Izaya’s smiling too, proud that he could pull that melodic laugh from him.

 

“Are you serious?” Ursus asks, sounding something akin to a seven year old asking for permission than a grown ass man asking for a bj.

 

But who was Izaya to judge?

 

“I would be honored to be your first,” Izaya says, meaning it in the most sincere of ways.

 

He can’t believe that it was that easy- deciding that maybe Ursus was just as starved for a sexual encounter in his normal life.

 

Ursus cranes his neck again, to avoid the calloused red glow from Izaya’s mask. “Fine. But you’re not blowing me over the side of a building. Someone could look down and see us.”

 

“And what a pity that would be,” Izaya coos extending his hand to Ursus.

 

He stares at it for a second in distain, “I’m not letting you carry me down!”

 

“Well you can’t fly,” Izaya yells back. “I’m just trying to speed up the process.”

 

“Ya know,” Ursus grins, tossing his feet back over the railway they were sitting on and striding across the roof. “You’re so eager- kinda sounds like you’ve wanted this for a while.”

 

Izaya doesn’t answer, choosing to float closely behind his companion who is currently scaling down the fire escape.

 

He has wanted this for a long time. His poor, sweet mattress is a brilliant testimony of that. Izaya is actually in shock that he got him to agree so easily and it really puts into perspective the trust they have for one another. Izaya knows almost nothing about him aside from the fact that he and Helectric are good friends in their daily lives. He knows that Ursus hates his job, but he doesn’t know exactly what it is. If he had to guess, Izaya gets a feeling it has something to do with security. Ursus doesn’t exactly seem to be aware of all of the social trends and fads- At least nowhere near to Izaya’s caliber. To give an example, a couple of days ago, when Ursus and Itzal had met up a couple of days ago, he pointed at his dumb white boots and exclaimed out loud, “Damn Daniel- back at it again with the white Vans,” and Ursus looked at him like he was a loon.

 

They make it to the concrete below, and Izaya wastes no time grabbing Ursus’ hand and leading him deeper into the underground of the city. He’s letting his shadows guide him, hoping they’ll lead him some place secluded and quiet. Really, Izaya wants some place where they won’t be interrupted.

 

He can feel the heat of Ursus’ skin rise through the spandex of his suit and penetrate Izaya’s icy shadows. Izaya backs Ursus up to a brick wall hidden behind a wrought iron fire escape and an empty dumpster. It’s not exactly the prefered location, but Izaya would prefer to have him in a bed for an extended period of time.

 

Suddenly the last two months of dirty fantasies and nightly excursions flood Izaya’s senses as he takes in the sight of Ursus, standing above him, but still a bit reluctant much to Izaya’s chagrin.

 

“So how are we gonna do this?” Ursus asks, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck. “I don’t know how comfortable I would feel face fucking the void that is your… face.”

 

“Shut up!” Izaya barks, offended at the statement.

 

He pulls his shadows away from his mouth into a hole from the bottom of his nose to the base of his neck. He smiles wickedly, his teeth gleaming into a lustful smirk.

 

“Oh god- don’t bite me,” Ursus whispers.

 

Izaya leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek to which Ursus blushes like a schoolgirl.

 

“A-Are we really…” He swallows thickly, “Gonna do this?”

 

“Not if you don’t want to,” Izaya says honestly.

 

The last thing Izaya would want is to pressure Ursus into something he didn’t want. His own personal desires didn’t quell the fact that he would never forgive himself if he forced Ursus into something that made the other uncomfortable- especially when involving something as personal as sex. While Izaya didn’t see it as that big of a deal, Ursus seemed like the romantic type, so it only made sense that he would be apprehensive.

 

“No it’s not that…” Ursus sighs and squares his shoulders, determination set in his jaw. “Do you promise that this won’t change whatever our friendship is?”

 

“Cross my heart,” Izaya promises, though he wouldn’t mind a mutual emotional attachment.

 

Ursus nods curtly and Izaya slips down to his knees.

 

“Dear god… is this a one piece?” Izaya laughs, hoping that some sort of zipper is behind his god awful belt.

 

“No!” Ursus blushes, moving his hands to unclip the belt himself.

 

Izaya is trying so hard to make sure that this is okay. Right now it’s all about him- something that Izaya hasn’t encountered before. Sex had always been about personal gain. He never particularly cared about his partner, and the act itself was more so to get himself off than the actual orgasm for whoever his partner was. But once again, Ursus was different. He made Izaya forget his personal rules, and even without knowing it, he smashed the walls Izaya had so cautiously built around him. He thinks it’s because he feels safe. He feels safe with Ursus- safe enough to be himself.

 

The belt hits the ground with a dull thud and Izaya traces his eyes back to the _much larger bulge than he had anticipated._ Izaya had never been scared of sex- but _Jesus sweet hell_ this was huge! He was more worried that it wasn’t gonna fit, but now that he’s made it this far, he’s got a personal goal to get it all the way down his throat. At least if he chokes, he’ll die as he lived- sucking dick. Izaya smirks and takes a deep breath. If this was his first bj, Izaya wanted to make sure every single one after it was disappointing.

 

Izaya drags his tongue over the spandex of Ursus’ suit- smiling as he feels Ursus place a hand on top of his hood. Izaya slips his fingers into the waistband of his spandex, more like a white pair of leggings than any actual pants, and pulls them halfway down his thighs. Boxers included. He is already half hard, and Izaya wastes no time dragging his tongue from the base to the tip. Ursus tastes surprisingly sweet, and while normally Izaya doesn’t like sweet things, he thinks he wouldn’t be able to get enough of this. It’s _amazing_. It’s hot, and thick, and almost intimidatingly big. Izaya wraps his right hand around the base and closes his mouth around the tip, moaning at the precum that spreads across his pallet.  Ursus twitches his hips forward and presses further into Izaya’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat with a claiming growl that shoots straight down his spine.

 

It’s a bit more than he can handle, and tears pool in corners of his eyes from the stretch. However the gasp that rips out of Ursus when Izaya hollows his cheeks is enough to make him hold back the gasp. Izaya presses the ball of his palm against his dick and moans languidly around the cock in his mouth. There’s another thrust- and Izaya can feel his esophagus being bruised. Need creeps into Izaya’s core, and for a minute he wished they could just fuck, but then he accepts that beggars can’t be choosers. He realizes, offhandedly, that he needs to update his collection as all of his phallic toys pale in comparison to the dick before him. He pushes his head all the way down the base and sucks hard when it pushes against the back of his throat.

 

Another hiss followed by a choppy moan- and Izaya pulls off with an audible pop. He trails kisses back down the length from the underside before delivering a wet kiss to the cherry head. Izaya pops the tip back into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. Ursus’ precum is ridiculously sweet, and Izaya can’t get enough. He slides the entire length back down his throat again as Ursus starts moans his name languidly.

 

Wait. His name?

 

He just said…

 

 _Izaya_.

 

He said Izaya. Izaya chokes- more surprise than the fact that this huge dick was rubbing between his tonsils- and pulls back with a gasp.

 

Holy _fucking shit_ he just said Izaya’s name. He said Izaya. He didn’t say Itzal. Ursus just moaned fucking _Izaya_ while he was sucking him off. Panic sets into Izaya as Ursus asks if he’s alright.

 

He doesn’t answer, not trusting his voice to come out evenly, and just pops his dick back into his mouth. If he doesn’t finish, then Ursus will know something is up. And Izaya is kind of counting on the notion that maybe Ursus knows Izaya in his personal life and doesn’t know his secret identity. However, that just raises more questions such as who in his personal life is he blowing.

 

He cups Ursus’ balls, deciding to just get this over with as soon as possible and with a firm squeeze and a hard suck, he finishes, blowing his load down Izaya’s throat with a guttural roar. Izaya swallows, Ursus’ come even sweeter than the rest of his dick. Izaya really wants to hightail it the fuck out of there, but again the ruse of him being fine outweighs his innate desires. Ursus zips himself up and Izaya smiles at himself again, realizing that his companion is having a hard time standing while he comes down from his high.

 

“You seem to be having a hard time there, Ursus.”

 

“Shove it,”  he growls. “You are unfairly good at that.”

 

Izaya drags his tongue across his teeth. Every one of his senses is still filled with Ursus- his taste, his smell, his touch- all of it assaulting Izaya’s better reasoning.

 

“We should call it a night.” Izaya sighs, “You might need to take a break after that amazing blow job.”

  
Ursus is blushing again, but he nods in agreement, much to Izaya’s deight. He waves a quick goodbye and flies directly up until Ursus disappears in the shadows of the buildings. Then, Izaya takes off back towards home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright this isn't a real chapter- It's just character sheets haha

Here's Izaya

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0Bwg7VbbN1Xy8THE0NERwcFgtdjQ/view?usp=sharing

 

And here's Ursus

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0Bwg7VbbN1Xy8SUJrLU5uSXQ1UHc/view?usp=sharing

 

I will accept your shame now. We're working on coloring Helectric!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drawn and lined by me  
> Colored by wolfpoots


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to slam your ex and tell your best friend you've been hoeing with Izaya Orihara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is littered with the usernames of our dedicated fans as a thank you, so keep up the good work- we love you!

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

 

He said  _ Izaya _ . He actually said  **_Izaya_ ** . Everything in the world he could have said and he landed on  **_Izaya_ ** . At least… there were upsides and downsides to this. For one, Ursus has shown a personal interest in him outside of their suits, so that quells his initial fear that if identities are shared, Ursus would leave him.

 

Leave him?

 

It’s not like they were dating. It was a totally platonic blowjob- well… as platonic as the action can get. Though Izaya wouldn’t mind doing it again. Wait a minute- he’s twenty three years old! Isn’t he a little too sober to be sucking dicks that he doesn’t know? He comes to the notion that if he had come across (pun intended) that sheer size of dick before he would  _ definitely  _ remember. So he doesn’t seem to know Ursus, but Ursus sure as hell seems to know him. 

 

Jesus fucking shit. 

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

Why him?

 

Izaya takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair. Okay! This wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it out to be. It was just a blowjob- It’s not like he asked Ursus to marry him or anything.

 

He growls at the blush that creeps up his face. He feels so  _ hot _ . Izaya is sure he’s never been this embarrassed in his entire life, and what makes it worse is that the only person he could possibly tell is asleep. He’s literally going to have to sit on this for hours, and then he just hopes to God that Shinra isn’t busy because Izaya literally has no fucking idea how he’s supposed to deal with this shit. Like come on! What the  _ fuck _ ?!

 

Izaya knows that Shinra is probably just going to laugh at him about it anyway, but honestly, he could use something predictable to combat what-the-ever-loving-fuck is going on with him right now. Expectations be damned, this is a nightmare. 

 

Izaya bolts to his computer, nearly face planting at the bottom of the stairs in his frenzy. He figures an anonymous posting on the Dollar’s page should at least offer  _ some _ assistance to his situation. 

 

> _ Anonymous: _
> 
> _ I have a friend that I have recently engaged in some sexual activities with. I don’t know him personally- I only know a secretive version of him? Don’t ask how, but he didn’t know it was me either- only knowing me by my persona. Both of us were wearing masks… _
> 
>  

God this sounds so terrible. Izaya can only imagine the types of kinks these people think this guy could be into, but whatever- it’s not like he can exactly tell them who he is and that he had Ursus’ dick in his mouth.

 

> _ Unfortunately, during the act itself, my friend said my name. My real name- not the name of my persona. I’m not sure what to do. _
> 
>  

He leaves it at that, allowing the other users to comment as they feel they should. Oh how this god has fallen. Do monsters often turn to the whims and advice of normal humans? It was strange for Izaya to be the one asking for advice rather than giving it. Even if it was terrible advice to drive someone to beat their mental illness in an unconventional way- It was still advice, damn it! 

 

> _ nameless_feeling: _
> 
> _ Did you at least finish the sexual act, whatever it was?  _
> 
>  

Izaya laughs earnestly. Good to know that someone has got their priorities in check.

 

> _ spectrum: _
> 
> _ I don’t know if I could have X_X. If you did, you’re a soldier. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ MelodicSleep: _
> 
> _ Maybe you should just tell him. Do you think he’d take it well? _

 

Izaya hadn’t exactly entertained the thought of telling Ursus what his identity was. Originally he had figured that Ursus would be offended, maybe even disgusted. But now…? No, he couldn’t do it. At least he wouldn’t do it until he figured out who Ursus was so that he could get a good read on how to go about it. 

 

> _ Aoi_chan: _

 

The wall of text already looked like a good idea. 

 

> _ From the sound of it, it seems like you two are around each other in these “personas” quite a lot. If I were you, I would pretend that nothing's wrong- act as though you have no idea who that person is and see if he reacts to it. I don’t think that he knows who you are, but if he does, he’ll surely inform you if you act aloof to it. _
> 
> _ If that doesn’t work, try asking him about it. Maybe in a joking manner, ask him what that name he said was, and see if he knows it’s you. If not, then you’re in the clear. You seem very worried about it- do you think he won’t like you anymore if he finds out? _
> 
>  

It was something that Izaya had dwelled on for a while- would Ursus still like him? At first he had assumed no, but now that this incident had occurred, he wasn’t exactly sure of anything involving the other.

 

> _ Either way, maybe you should work to find out who he is. _

 

Isn’t that what he was supposed to be doing in the first place? His job was to figure out Ursus’ identity. He was getting paid to find Ursus’ identity. If that was the case, then how could he be so quick to dismiss the notion? If he found out who Ursus was, then he would know for sure if that person knew who he was. 

 

He felt so  _ stupid _ ! It wasn’t like Izaya to lose track of what the main goal was in doing all of this. All of the pain, all of the mental stressors, hell -he literally got struck by fucking lightning- and for what?! For a job that he abandoned when he allowed his feelings to cloud his judgement. He has already broken so many rules for someone that he doesn’t even know.

 

And that’s just it. He doesn’t know Ursus. He doesn’t know his real name, or his face, or what he does for a living. The only thing he has to put a name to the face is his build, his hair, and now, admittedly, his dick. 

 

Izaya can’t believe he allowed himself to get so sidetracked. He was never one to get distracted or diverge from the initial plan, but here he was, freaking out because a  _ stranger _ he blew in a public alley way knew his name. 

 

What would his parents think if they had seen him there?

 

He shakes his head rapidly and shivers, hoping to never associate his parents and his sexual habits ever again.

 

Oh god- he had to go to that stupid Christmas dinner. It happened every year, and every year he dreaded it. Christmas was next week, and Izaya realized that now that he has friends, he has to get gifts. He was growing to hate the holidays.

 

Should he get Ursus a gift?

 

It would only make sense given the time they’d spent together, he supposed. 

 

This was ridiculous! Izaya knew that he couldn’t just allow Shiki to win, and he also knew that he couldn’t bring himself to betray Ursus. He decides that he will pursue his discovery, but more so when Ursus is comfortable rather than forcing it out of him for profit. He even debates dropping the job with Shiki... 

 

He’ll take Aoi_chan’s advice then- it seems like the smartest course of action, and it’s something he can easily accomplish. 

 

Izaya traces his eyes to his front door, where Namie is standing, bag in hand, and a look of bewilderment etched onto her face.

 

“When I said that you should get up earlier, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she sighs, taking her place on his couch and booting up her computer.

 

“Why are you here so early?” Izaya asks. “It’s not even six yet.”

 

She looks at him incredulously. “Open a window. It’s eight thirty.”

 

To emphasize the point, she strides behind Izaya’s desk and pulls the blinds open. The sunlight is near blinding and Izaya, accompanied with the horror of knowing that he had been lost in his own thoughts for nearly  _ five hours _ , clamps his eyes shut. He runs his tongue over his teeth again, the taste long brushed out, but the act enough bringing back memories. Izaya throws himself into another internal war, all the while zoning out on some space on the wall. He isn’t really sure what exactly he’s staring at, and to be honest, he can’t be bothered to care.

 

Namie can, however.

 

She waves her hand infront of Izaya’s eyes and stares curiously as she watches the life return to his body. His dark bags are far more prominent than anything she had ever seen. He looks incredibly more frazzled in these recent weeks.

 

Jeez, he needs to get some sleep.

 

Izaya comes back to and gently smacks Namie’s hand out of his face. 

 

“I know you’ve been lying to me recently,” Namie sighs, ignoring the fact that Izaya is fiddling with his desk like he’s never seen it before.

 

“How so?” 

 

“Every day I ask if you’re alright.”

 

“I know,” he hums, “And I figured since I wasn’t alright when we met, I’m not any less alright now.”

 

“Fine, Alice Liddle.”

 

Izaya starts to make his way to the door, and Namie graciously bolts to it, slamming her heeled foot in front of it and keeping him from leaving like he always does. She forces the door shut and pushes him backwards until his hips hit his desk.

 

Namie stares at him sternly, “You are gonna tell me what the hell is going on because if you get sent to the nuthouse, I lose my paycheck.”

 

“Oh Namie, I’m so glad you care so deeply for me,” Izaya purrs. “You’re bound to make your brother swoon with a tongue like tha-”

 

She slaps him hard- her hand connecting with an audible smack. 

 

It was one of those instances where hindsight always comes into play. He should have known that if he turned this on her, she would have reacted negatively. He just never thought she would actually directly hit him. She’d never done it before, and to be honest, he’s a little proud that she had the gall. 

 

Izaya brings his hands up to gingerly hold his face while Namie stares at him- looking equally shocked at her actions. She opens her mouth, more likely than not to apologize, however Izaya removes his hand from the red mark on across his cheek and holds it up to silence her. Namie promptly clamps her mouth shut. 

 

Izaya is actually stupidly proud of her. He really wants to thank her, actually, because he knew that if anyone needed a good slap in the face, it was him. In fact, Izaya would go as far as to say he even feels a little better with the course shock of unexpected violence. Namie is still frozen in her place, the mask of bitter indifference on her face doing nothing to hide the fear of potential termination. 

 

“Namie.” She shifts her eyes to him, “You’re so mean to me!” he whines, deciding to bury her fears rather than be an ass about it.

 

If she had said something about his sisters, he probably would have reacted in the same way regardless of his distance in comparison to her’s and Seiji’s.

 

“God knows you need it,” Namie hisses, though relief dances languidly with her declaration. 

 

Izaya ignores it in favor of continuing to leave for Shinra’s. The guy, as sketchy and creepy as he is, is still Izaya’s best friend. So when Izaya is in distress, now with a general outline of what to do, he decides to confide in his best friend. It can’t be that bad right? Shinra has to know that Itzal and Ursus have been working together- anyone in the Eastern Hemisphere knows that the two come in tandem with one another.

 

So it shouldn’t be that overrated to assume that eventually the two would participate in some…  _ rated-R activities _ . 

 

As Izaya crossed the district lines into Ikebukuro, it dawned on him that Shizuo had abruptly turned from the public eye. He was still working as a bodyguard for that debt collecter, of course, but no one was screaming when they saw him anymore. Izaya had heard a few rumors through the grapevine that the poor guy was looking a little depressed, and Izaya couldn’t help the pang of guilt that ran through him. As much as it didn’t make any sense, Izaya knew that he was to blame. Maybe it was because of how quickly he had told Shizuo that he had had enough. Idiot probably thought that that meant Izaya had had enough of him, and he couldn’t be more wrong. It wasn’t that at all. He was just tired of always  _ fighting _ , and for what seemed to him to be no apparent reason! 

 

According to Shinra, Shizuo had decided that he didn’t like Izaya because he had heard rumors that Izaya had stabbed Shinra in middle school. Of course, that asshole didn’t think to correct him, and just sort of hoped for the best when they met.

 

However, though he would never,  _ in his entire fucking life _ , admit it out loud, it was the opposite for Izaya. He had heard the rumors of this monster turn the tales of his own powers into nothing but a distant memory. Before they had even met, Izaya would have said that he was in love with Shizuo Heiwajima. He had taken Izaya’s place as monster, so when everyone directed their attention elsewhere, Izaya was left free- which is all that he had ever wanted. He wanted to be free. Free to escape. Free to hide from prying, judgemental eyes. Free from those that wanted to hurt him, like his parents, his enemies, even a few of his friends. 

 

It was a freedom that Shizuo had unconsciously given him- a piece of mind that was associated with a ghost image of blonde hair and honey colored scowl. Maybe it was just the relief, accompanied by an eternal gratitude, but to his young and unhardened mind and heart, Izaya could have sworn it was love. 

 

Something so pure and passionate that it had destroyed him when confronted with Shizuo’s hatred. It was equally powerful, maybe even more so, built from false tales of knife wounds and abandonment. It was an animosity carved so deeply into his chest that Izaya had decided that that was that, and for the first time in his life, he caved. He allowed Shizuo to hate him, and in turn, grew to teach himself to associate that swell of his heart with a burning, seething hatred. If it took Shizuo hating him to find his own piece of mind, then so be it. At least he was happy.

 

He jumped on the bandwagon of Shizuo being a monster shortly after that. Shinra, God’s third eye, had almost immediately seen through Izaya’s façade.

 

_ “I’ll always be marvelled at how good an actor you are, Izaya,”  _ he had said once in high school over the rim of a cup of tea.  _ “You’ve convinced him, our peers- you’ve almost convinced yourself.” _

 

Of course Izaya had laughed it off, playing to be nothing more than another trick, but of course Shinra had persisted. 

 

_ “I’m sure that if you would just tell him the truth, the two of you could work it out. He may not love you like you do him,”  _ Izaya cringed at Shinra’s omnipotence,  _ “but you two could at least be friends.” _

 

_ “It’s too late for that, Shinra. I’ve already turned myself into what he wanted me to be.” _

 

_ “And you still don’t have him.” _

 

That had been that. Izaya had stood and left, deciding that he had reached his limit in Shinra’s form of counseling. That particular moment from their past had stood out to him. It was one of the few moments, after falling for her, that Shinra didn’t revolve the conversation around Celty. 

 

Speaking of Celty, she was rounding the corner out from the underground parking garage as Izaya approached their apartment. She stuck her hand up and waved a small greeting before continuing on to where ever she was headed. Izaya tossed a small hello in her direction and directed his attention back to building. 

 

How did he even get here? He was so consumed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that he had arrived at his intended destination. Izaya drags a hand over his face and sighs. If he continues to allow Shizuo to consume his thoughts like this, he may just subconsciously walk to Shizuo’s apartment without even realizing.

 

“Izaya?” Shiki purrs. “It’s nice to see you confidently striding through Ikebukuro during Heiwajima-san’s stupor.”

 

The way Izaya’s heart fell out of his chest the minute he heard that voice is possibly the most alarming thing about this. He makes the mental note to beat the ever loving fuck out of Shinra when he gets upstairs cause if there wasn’t all this talk of Shiki building a personal case file of the informant, Izaya is sure he wouldn’t be reacting like this.

 

“Hello Shiki-san,” Izaya hums, hoping his distaste doesn’t shine through. “It wouldn’t be right for me  _ not _ to take advantage of Shizu-chan’s down fall.”

 

“No it wouldn’t. Actually, I’ve been hearing some things about you that are starting to worry me.”

 

Izaya tills his head to the side, and pulls on a look of feigned ignorance.

 

“People are starting to speak about you with smiles on their faces- it’s odd, is it not?”

 

“People change, Shiki. Some change for the better… others the worse. Regardless, you shouldn’t be as concerned about me as you’re letting on.” 

 

“I still care about you.” It’s said with a scowl that conveys the opposite meaning to his words.

 

“That’s not your job anymore,” Izaya says in the most serious tone that he can muster. “I’ll send you what I have found on this assignment tomorrow.” ((A/N Izaya at Shiki rn amirite?? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQ69kBP7uok))

 

“I’d prefer if you handed it to me,” Shiki whispers, apparently much more hurt than he had originally wanted to let on.

 

“Then I’ll deliver it to Shinra.”

 

Izaya leaves at that, fluffing the hood of his coat to shake out his anxieties. Shiki gets into his car after that. Izaya doesn’t pay him any mind as the car pulls off of the street and to the right- more likely than not back toward the Yakuza head office. 

 

He really hopes he didn’t fuck himself over with the disrespect he just showed his employer. It can’t be helped now, either way, so it was best not to think about it, right? He was planning on dropping the case anyway, so what’s the worst that Shiki could really do? And that would be the dangerous sense of optimism that is going to get Izaya skinned alive.

 

Izaya walked into Shinra’s apartment. The door was still unlocked with Shiki’s leaving. He’s  painted in that familiar sense of distress that always seems to trail behind Shiki. It’s something that Izaya was obsessed with when the two were, regrettably, intimate. He was fascinated in the fear and the dread that covered everything that his lover came in contact with. It bled through the cracks in the concrete he walked on, in the walls of every building he had entered. It reared it’s ugly head at any mention of the name when associated with the action.

 

Danger.

 

Fear.

 

Power.

 

Yes, Izaya had been in love with Shiki- or at least, he envied the idea of him. It was nothing like his feelings for humanity and even further from what he felt for Shizuo. That feeling, he’s starting to reassociate with love, and he hopes to God that Shinra doesn’t notice and can’t call him out about it. 

 

“You need to figure out what he wants because he just asked me about your sexual history.”

 

That certainly wasn’t what Izaya was expecting to hear right off the bat. “...What did you tell him?”

 

“I told him that I knew that the two of you had been together.” Izaya pulls a face. “But then he got this smug look, so I added that I knew he wasn’t your first.”

 

“Did you own up to it? The loss of my virginity was your doing after all,” Izaya laughs.

 

“Of course not! My sweet Celty was sitting right next to me when he asked. I’m sure she’s already a little suspicious that I knew so much about you.”

 

“You’re my  _ best friend _ , Shinra. You and I have been together for the majority of our lives. It would be weird if you didn’t know.” Izaya is snickering again, always deriving joy from Shinra’s shame.

 

“You don’t know my sexual history!” Shinra yells.

 

“What are you talking about?” Izaya laughs happily. “Celty waved at me on my way here.”

 

“I’ve had more than two partners, Izaya!”

 

“No you haven’t.”

 

And he wasn’t wrong. Shinra, unless it was with Izaya for that one  _ last time _ in junior year, always said that he felt like he was “cheating on Celty.”

 

“At least I’m not leading an ex on with what he thinks is the promise of a few rounds of sex,” Shinra barks out, albeit a little desperately.

 

Izaya snorts at his friend, pointedly ignoring his comment about Shiki when the man was, more likely than not, dwelling on his most recent interaction with him. “Who am I?” Izaya asks pushing his lip out into a pout.

 

“When I was in highschool,” he snickers, pushing his voice to be more nasally and squeaky, “I took my male best friend to a school dance that he didn’t want to go to because the girl I loved said no and all the others said I smelled like formaldehyde.”

 

“You didn’t have to say yes!” Shinra squeals.

 

“When the topic arose, I lied to my future wife- claiming that I was still a virgin when she asked.”

 

“She didn’t like you at the time! I didn’t want to admit that you and I had exchanged virginities! What do think she would have said?!”

 

And a final blow for good measure, just to darken that blood red color on Shinra’s face a teensy bit more. “I once tried to molest said woman in the shower and ended up third basing it with my dad.”

 

“ _ How do you even know about that! _ ” Shinra absolutely screamed. “Celty doesn’t even know about that! And that wasn’t how it happened anyway, but seriously how did you get so close?!”

 

Izaya returns his voice to normal and poshly presses a hand against his chest. “I have an approximate knowledge of many things, Shinra.”

 

“Well I have an approximate knowledge that you’re an asshole.”

 

Izaya laughs at that, to which Shinra loses the scowl to join him. 

 

Shinra places his hands on his hips. “So, is there anything that you specifically wanted to talk about?”

 

“Um, yeah, actually. So you know the whole superhero thing?”

 

“You mean how you like to dress up like death and children’s nightmares personified and amputate people at night? Yes I know of it. I also know that you and Ursus have been getting a little  _ close _ haven’t you?” He smirks in an accusatory manner. “I’m just kidding, you two make a handsome pair of heros- I just never pegged you for being the friendly type though.”

 

“About that…” Izaya trails off. He steels his nerves deciding that he has definitely done worse than blow this dude. “So, don’t judge me.”

 

Shinra pulls a face of concern.

 

“Ursus and I are friends, right? So, we were talking and I found out that he had never been blown before-”

 

“Oh _ no _ .”

 

“And being the kind and sympathetic person that I am-”

 

“Tell me you did not-”

 

“I offered mysel-”

 

“You offered your mouth!”

 

“Point is,” Izaya interjects, “So I’m down there, right? And he did something that I didn’t expect.”

 

“What, did he come?”

 

“Oh no- I absolutely expected that. I mean, how could he not? It was me blowing him, and I’m amazing at everything, especially oral,” Izaya boasts. “Wouldn’t you agree, Shinra?”

 

“Stop! What did he do that was unexpected?”

 

“He said my name.”

 

“Isn’t that standard during sexual acts? To say the name of their partner?” Shinra questioned. “Oh wait- He said  _ your _ name? Like he said Izaya?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh my-” Shinra breaks off into a violent cackling fit, and Izaya is glad that he seems to finally be back on his game of predictions. “He actually said your name! Like during the blow job!? Did you finish? It would have been weird if you didn’t finished.”

 

“Yes, I finished!”

 

“Oh my god. What are you gonna do?”

 

“I got some advice saying that I should just indirectly ask him who it was,” Izaya sighs, leaning against the edge of the counter.

 

“What if he doesn’t remember?”

 

“Well then I’m in the clear, and I can forget about it.”

 

“But you like him don’t you?” Shinra asks honestly, choosing not to point out Izaya’s growing blush. “If you like him, and he also apparently likes you, then I think you should go for it.”

 

“Do you honestly think that if I was just like, ‘Oh, hey Ursus, remember when I was blowing you last night and you called out that name? Well, surprise surprise! That was me all along. Now pick me up in your big, toned arms and carry me off to my happily ever after,’ that we would work out? ” He hisses, irritation evident in his voice. 

 

“I think you’d be surprised, Izaya. If he’s fond enough of you to call out your name when someone else is blowing him then- oh wait, maybe he knows your secret identity and that was his way of telling you!” 

 

“I thought about that, but he didn’t seem to connect those dots when I went home.”

 

“Did he call you Itzal?”

 

“He didn’t call me anything,” Izaya laughed. “He could barely stand up- you think he gave me a proper goodbye?”

 

Shinra grins. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re hurt by that.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, you’ve just got this tone when you talk about the stuff he does that you don’t like. For example, the lack of a ‘proper goodbye’ after you sucked him off.”

 

“Can you not just bark it out like that? You make me seem like some kind of slut.”

 

“Well…” Shinra trails off, allowing Izaya to put the rest together.

 

Izaya drives his fist weakly at Shinra’s arm and grinds it into his bicep for good measure.

  
“Either way,” Shinra sighs, rubbing at his arm, “I hope it works out for you, Izaya. I haven’t seen you this happy in a really long time.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://drive.google.com/file/d/0Bwg7VbbN1Xy8MXpLVHV5VWpMa1E/view?usp=sharing
> 
> Please look at this

Izaya’s stuck babysitting Helectric while Ursus congregates with the police officers, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. There wasn’t even any need for her to be here!

 

He swears if he sees her wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss him on the cheek one more time, he’s gonna blow a fucking gasket. It wouldn’t be as bad if she didn’t stare  _ directly at Izaya _ with a smug ass smirk every time she did it. It’s only 1:45 and so far, it’s been seven times. 

 

He’s been counting.

 

The two of them are sitting on top of a streetlight, casting the shadows of her feet and his across the pavement underneath them. He’s swinging his legs, forcing his silhouette in and out of the light’s path. Helectric is picking at the royal blue gloves on her dainty, obnoxious hands. The wind tosses her curls around her face like a little halo of innocence.

 

Izaya doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to beat somebody’s face in more in his  _ life _ . What’s worse than that is that Izaya doesn’t even know what his deal with her is. She’s not actually physically hurting him aside from this territorial smugness about her when she drags herself over what’s his- 

 

Wait a minute, no he’s not. Ursus is far from his, and Izaya berates himself for even thinking of it. 

 

“What’s your relationship with him?” Helectric asks. Her voice is a little on the raspy side, and Izaya is reminded of the age old ‘nails on a chalk board.’

 

“With Ursus?” He asks, though he didn’t need to look at her to follow her masked eyes back to Ursus standing in the road intersection. “We’re just friends.”

 

“What about outside of your suits?” she pries, and Izaya is starting to get irritated by her questioning.

 

“Does it matte-”

 

“It does to me,” she interjects. “Ursus-san and I have known each other for a very long time in and outside of our suits. I won’t tolerate you interfering with us.”

 

Izaya prepares to make a witty remark, more likely than not teasing her for her affections, but Ursus calls out to  _ him _ from on top of the pole. Izaya flies down in front of him.

 

They returned to their friendly routine of jokes and weak hits much sooner than Izaya had anticipated. He expected at least a few days of awkward eye contact and structured sentences, but when Ursus yelled out his name and waved in a welcoming way, Izaya buried his concerns. They laughed and joked. Izaya even mentioned that six and a half minutes was almost sad for a grown ass man to come, to which he was shoved in the chest. They were both fine, something that Izaya was immensely thankful for.

 

“How did it go?”

 

Ursus pulls Izaya into a hug immediately and pats his back like a proud father. “No one died today; I’m actually really proud of you. I can tell you’re trying, and that’s more than I thought I was gonna get.”

 

Izaya gently wrapped his arms around Ursus’ waist and sighs into his shoulder. He’s trying to enjoy the hug; however, Helectric’s eyes boring into his back are making it a little difficult. It’s Ursus that pulls away first, keeping his hands on his shoulders and holding them an arm's length apart. He’s got this adorably stupid grin on his face, and Izaya can’t help to smile back at him. He walks back towards Helectric and waves at her. She flies directly from the lamp post they were sitting on into Ursus’ arms, forcing him to spin with her to keep their balance. She’s cheering about how “they did it” or whatever; Izaya is too interested in continuing to mentally complain about the light pollution keeping him from seeing his beautiful stars. Either way, her direct adoration is making him wanna punch something, and when he traces his eyes back, Izaya is sure he can see a careful, blue middle finger pointed in his direction.

 

He rolls his eyes at her immaturity. 

 

She pulls back with a smirk, snapping into a fake, plastic smile once Ursus focuses on her. He looks a little confused, and Izaya thinks that  _ he _ is even more oblivious to people who are pining for his affections. 

 

“Right,” Ursus continues. “Anyways, I think we’re all good to go, Helectric. I’ll be sure to notify you if we need your assistance.”

 

She huffs like a child being put in time-out and shoots into the sky, static cracking in the air as she leaves off towards Ikebukuro. Izaya thinks that maybe they live there, she and Ursus, and while that may seem like a small amount of information, a majority of the people that live there are illegals and gangbangers. Occasionally, the yakuza will send people to infiltrate and reside there, just so they can know more about what’s going on without having to fork over money to Izaya. He’s sure there is no gang affiliation with Ursus. He isn’t sure about Helectric, but he thinks that she may have something to do with Sloan and his organization. Her accent is a little hard to place, but Izaya is thinking Russian. Russians in Ikebukuro tend to include special ops, like Simon and Dennis, or mercenaries. Izaya is willing to bet money it’s the latter given the way she fights, seeming to enjoy taking on targets she has no business fighting, and Izaya can sympathize. He’s the same way. 

 

He always wanted to fight the biggest, strongest, and fastest that he could. Part of it is the thrill of the fight, part of it is the rush he gets of slamming these guys over a foot taller than him- the fear in their eyes when Izaya starts to go after their friends. He loves watching people run from him in fear almost as much as he loves humanity. It’s so easy to break down a stupid man’s bravery. They crumble so easily beneath his feet that it would be wrong to let them continue to believe they are on top of their world. They are wrong. They are weak. They need to be taken down a peg, and Izaya is proud to do so.

 

“Itzal!”

 

Izaya rips his head back to Ursus who is staring at him incredulously, waving a hand in front of his face. 

 

“You kinda zoned out there for a minute are you alright?”

 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Izaya laughs, even though he knows that he should be  _ very worried _ that his internal monologuing made him sound like a fucking serial killer.

 

“Ya know,” Ursus turns away from him and drops his shoulders a bit, “It’s okay to not be okay. Whatever you’re feeling is valid.”

 

He stiffens immediately. “Why would you say that?”

 

“You just kinda seem like you needed to hear it.” He smiles, beautiful and genuine.

 

And Izaya immediately melts. He’s just so kind and pure that Izaya is even more confused how this dude could know of him in real life. If anything, he feels bad that this guy knew him before Izaya was actively trying to be a productive member of society. Maybe productive isn’t the right word–  _ tolerable _ fits better. Either way, Ursus is too sweet for Izaya to have an inkling of an influence on. Unfortunately, Izaya is in too deep, and he thinks he’s getting addicted to tender smiles and platonic hugs. Gross.

 

Ursus yawns loudly, and Izaya proposes a trip to a local cafe. Ironically enough, it’s the one he and Saki had gone to a few days before. A pang of regret hits him as he remembers the ordeal.  

 

“Is that really a good idea? I mean, we’re both in our suits.”

 

“They’ll probably just think we’re a couple of cosplayers, and I could really use a cup of coffee.” 

 

Ursus wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Why did I know that you would like that shit?”

 

“Rude!” Izaya yells, honestly offended.

 

“It’s so bitter.”

 

Izaya rolls his eyes, “I should have known you had a sweet tooth. Wouldn’t complete the picture if you didn’t.”

 

Ursus crosses his arms. “What picture?”

 

“Oh, just the picture of the strapping hero with the beautiful set of morals and a kind heart. Wouldn’t make sense if you didn’t have some preference to sugar. It’s actually cute, really.”

 

“So you think I’m cute?”

 

“Thatisn’twhatIsaid,” Izaya blurts, his words blending together in a jumbled mess as his face heats up.

 

“I mean,” Ursus notes, “it kinda is. At least you think the stereotype I fit into is cute.”

 

Izaya doesn’t answer him, deciding that coffee is calling much louder than owning up to that perfect, textbook worthy, freudian slip. He strides past him, but feels his hand get tugged. 

 

Something Izaya had picked up on pretty early is that Ursus must’ve had some sort of abandonment issues, and would often initiate physical contact. This umbrellas into a lot of things from hands on the back to hugs, but now it had manifested into some platonic hand holding. 

 

Ursus’ hands could literally eat Izaya’s. They’re big and warm, and if the angle is weird, his gauntlets will press into Izaya’s wrists, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. He had such a toxic sense of safety that shrouded him in a cloud. Izaya couldn’t get enough, and it seemed that Ursus was happy to share. 

 

They walk like that for a little while, Ursus tugging Izaya behind him by the hand with that stupidly adorable smile of contentment, and Izaya lost in his own embarrassing thoughts. He looks up at the sky again, returning to his displeasement at of the lack of stars. It was the only bad thing about living in the city– well, aside from the danger, pollution, and incredibly high rent, but Izaya could easily handle all of that. He wonders absentmindedly if Ursus would find the stars as enchanting as he did. After all, Izaya could honestly write sonnets that only hope to convey the beauty they held. It’s an entire plane of dark existence, illuminated only by death hundreds of thousands of lightyears away. The morbidity of it all only adds to the macabre, poetic romanticism of the big black abyss above him. 

 

Izaya would like to go to space. Time is relative in the non-existent emptiness, and true isolation would do him some good to sort out his thoughts. His thoughts about Shiki, Shinra, Shizuo, and Ursus– all of them will get their own time in his head for him to rebuild that chess board he so cautiously based his life on. He put it away a little while ago, but rapidly realized the lifeline it had given him. Either way, Izaya figures that a mental construct would be a little less absolutely fucking creepy. 

 

The door chimes as Ursus pushes it open, and the smell of coffee floods his senses. It’s shitty coffee, but caffeine is caffeine and beggars can’t be choosers. The two are victim to the hostess’ side eye, but are shown to a table near the back of the cafe. Izaya actually reads the menu this time, deciding on just getting something vanilla flavored, because if he has to taste that shit from Hershey Hell one more time, he might actually die. He’ll take the sweetness over the sludge from the bottom of the chocolate barrel. 

 

A latte macchiato doesn’t sound too bad. He’s always been rather impartial to Italian coffees, and the idea of concentrating coffee into an easy-to-take shot sounds like the most efficient route to Izaya. 

 

Izaya would make a great barista. Well, maybe not, as his patience is rather thin, especially when dealing with stupid people. He’s heard the horror stories of the poor Starbucks employees, and he really doesn’t think he could handle it without breaking someone’s neck. 

 

Ursus orders a cup of hot chocolate with extra whip cream and a slice of cinnamon cake, to which Izaya berates him for his childish sweet tooth. More importantly, why is this cafe open 24 hours? Well, in a city that never sleeps, it must be financially lucrative. There are a couple of people tucked throughout the business, most of them obviously being college students too tired to notice the odd pair stationed in their own corner of vanilla, and cinnamon, and an unnamed electricity in the air around them as they chat idly. 

 

“What kind of music do you like?” 

 

“Well,” Izaya hums, “it’s so hard to just slap a label onto it. I guess my music taste is a good reflection of me.”

 

Ursus tilts his head in pensive confusion.

 

“A mess,” Izaya smiles.

 

Ursus laughs again, and all of Izaya’s anxieties fade away to the warmth of his joy. It sounds so carefree and happy that he’s almost convinced he’s jealous of his friend. 

 

Their orders are placed down and their waitress tosses a “nice cosplays” over her shoulder as she tiredly saunters behind the counter again. Izaya pulls his shadows away from his mouth again and smirks at Ursus in an “I-told-you-so” sort of way. He sends him a scowl, but it fades into a grin shortly after. Izaya takes a sip of his drink and is pretty sure that he is literally drinking simple syrup. Regardless, it’s better than the lie of a black coffee they serve. However, the way that Ursus moans quietly around his fork when he takes a bite of his cake has Izaya sputtering around the foam in his cup. 

 

Ursus shoots him a look of concern as Izaya coughs lightly, and Ursus holds out a piece of the cake to him. “You want a bite?”

 

Izaya takes it, wrapping his lips around the metal and sliding the pastry onto his mouth. It’s sweet, without a doubt, but the cinnamon in the cake itself cuts through the buttercream icing. There’s another dusting of cinnamon on top that chimes in with its presence as the bite slides down his throat. He drags his tongue across his top lip to get the last of the thick icing off his mouth. Ursus is bright red, actually about to drop his fork in his embarrassment as he stares at Izaya. He clears his throat and swigs his hot chocolate, getting whipped cream stuck on his nose. Izaya strokes his finger down the others face, scooping up the cream and wiping it off of on his tongue. Ursus is still sporting a lot of blush, destitiution plastered on his face and in his speech when he tries to change the subject. 

 

“W-what do you do for work?”

 

At that Izaya freezes. In all honesty, he had been hoping to avoid this topic all together, and therefore, he does what he always does. He changes the subject in such a way that he makes his partner think it was their idea. He sips from his cup, feeling a bit guilty for tricking Ursus like he was just another plaything. 

 

“I travel sometimes for work,” he sighs. “What about you? Have you ever been out of the country?”

 

“Me? No– my brother travels around a lot, but I’ve never left.”

 

_ Hook. _

 

“What does your brother do?” Izaya prods.

 

“He’s an actor. He goes around the world to film his scenes for his movies.”

 

_ Line. _

 

“That sounds like fun! If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

 

That shoots Ursus off on a tangent about European countries; one in particular that keeps coming up is Romania.

 

_ And sinker.  _

 

Subject averted for the time being. Izaya can only hope that it doesn’t come up again. If he shared his career, then Ursus would be able to connect the dots, even if he wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box. 

 

Izaya would have never guessed Romania. It’s a hub of European and Middle Eastern cultures converging on the shores of the Black Sea: A beautiful countryside of lush greens and Victorian palaces, effects of the dark ages evident in the country’s rich history. Izaya had been there before. His parents sent him there to study music when he was twelve, and he spent the entire summer sitting in front of a piano or plucking a violin on the balcony of the mansion he was staying at. He remembers a short trip to Dracula’s castle. After all, it isn’t really a trip to Romania if you don’t visit one of the most famous castles in the country. Izaya snuck off, of course, finding the repetition of background information on the Vampire King to be quite boring, and decided to explore for himself. 

 

The history of the Mongols’ invasion was evident in the cracks of bricks in the walls. It was obvious the palace had been ruined and rebuilt as a military base, so at least the Ottomans gave reason for repurpose. It would be a shame if such a great structure was allowed to lay waste due to human greed and desire for prosperity. That was one of the most fickle things about humans, in Izaya’s opinion. As much as he rejected religion, he agreed that those infamous seven sins were  _ deadly _ . 

 

Every breeze moved up the empty halls like tsunami waves crashing into the hillside. The air was cold and stifling when Izaya found himself in the small courtyard. The floors were lined in cobblestone with a small well in the center of the multi-leveled out room. A thick rain had covered the ground only seconds before, the smell of it hanging heavy in the air as clouds swirled into blackness above him. It was one of his most peaceful moments– just Izaya and the rain tucked between two lush mountains in a silent embrace of the bloody history that befell the castle. There were multiple wars waged here, and in his isolation, Izaya was sure he could feel the pain of the fallen soldiers.

 

It was the first time he ever felt he was being  _ screamed _ at for help. The first and most memorable time that he heard the begging, and the crying, and the distant moaning of  _ pain _ and  _ betrayal _ worm their way into his brain. Izaya made the mistake of letting them in then, flashes of blood and mothers murdered in front of their children flickered into his brain at such a rapid pace that the only thing he had any honest recollection of was the dark red. Spilled blood and fire danced into his senses in a chaotic tango of terror. He fell to his knees in front of the well, hands stained red and shaking with the blade of his knife clattering into the deep water in front of him. His side was bleeding- a self inflicted wound in his frenzy. Rain washed the red puddle beneath him into pink and rinsed it away with his fear. Izaya leaned against the stone wall, keeping a hand placed firmly into his side to stop the bleeding.

 

Ursus snickers at Izaya again; his face gets so blank when he’s lost in thought. Izaya presses a hand to his side as the memory fades. The slash scarred over, ugly and faded, but it irritates him when the voices get too loud. He hasn’t let them get that close to taking over him again, always making sure he’s never in total darkness to keep them at bay. He’s come to terms with the fact that he’ll never get rid of them, but that doesn’t stop him from causing permanent hearing damage from blasting music so loud he tunes them out completely. 

 

“What about you? Where have you been?”

 

“I’ve been to Romania.” It comes out in a catatonic sort of way as Izaya brushes off his stupor. “I’ve spent plenty of time in Europe and Russia as well. The states are just as rude and brash as the tourists are, so while I went, I didn’t enjoy it,” he laughs.

 

“What was it like?” Ursus takes a sip of his hot chocolate, careful to clean the whipped cream off himself before Izaya can embarrass him. “Romania, I mean.”

 

“It was beautiful!”

 

“What were you doing there?”

 

Izaya sips his disgustingly sweet drink and winces as his tongue became covered in an oily layer of sugar. “I was studying music– piano and violin specifically.”

 

“You play an instrument?” Ursus asks, picking his head up.

 

“I play a few,” he murmurs. 

 

The only people that knew were, of course, Shinra and his parents. He kept a piano in his house, but he is at least 99% sure everyone thinks it’s there just for show. However, he really only ever plays it at night when there is silence aside from the gentle pitter-patter of the rain against his window. He always became giddy when the crescendo of the piece hit when the lightning struck and the thunder rolled. 

 

“I wish I could play something, but I’m really accident prone,” Ursus chuckles.

 

“I could teach you sometime,” Izaya offers, even though when he tried to teach his sisters, he found that he was a horrible excuse for an instructor.

 

He had no idea how in the Sam Hill he was able to save Shinra’s grade freshman year, really, because he’s so bad at it. 

 

“I might take you up on that,” he replies, and a pang of concern dances up Izaya’s spine.

 

A comfortable silence spreads between them like the foam in Izaya’s latte. Ursus finishes his cake. The whipped cream in his hot cocoa long melted into a creamy layer of sugar, much to his delight, and he swipes his tongue through the froth. Izaya decides that now is as good a time as any to scrutinize.

 

His hands are so large. Of course, Izaya already knew that, but now that he sees them surrounding the cup he’s holding, they seem almost massive. Though the gauntlets are in the way, Izaya can still tell how toned his forearms are, and he shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes trail up to the packed muscle of his upper arms and armor clad chest. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t have a bit of a strength kink. 

 

Aside from his broad shoulders and thick neck, this guy has got one hell of a jawline, which was just another one of Izaya’s guilty pleasures. His blonde hair was a lot softer than his coarse appearance would let on, and the artificial apple scent in his shampoo complemented the spiced bourbon smell his body exhumed when not consumed with lust. It reminded Izaya of an apple pie with rum spiced whipped cream, and suddenly he knows what he’s doing tomorrow. To Izaya, Ursus was physically perfect. He was bold and strong with a dominating presence and a face that rocked him to his core. Well, as much of his face as Izaya had seen. 

 

Holy shit, he was gay. He already knew that, but now he’s gotta own up to it as he unabashedly checks out Ursus, who is sitting across from him oblivious to what Izaya is thinking. And right now, he’s thinking about sex. Specifically, he’s thinking about all the dirty,  _ sinful _ things he would let Ursus do to him without even thinking twice about it. His mind is racing with images of gags and blindfolds and toys. He’s thinking of whips and handcuffs and heels. Strip teasing and fishnets– Izaya’s already got miniskirts galore! And he would have no problem flouncing around this perfect specimen of all of Izaya’s hidden turn-ons. 

 

“How was I?” Izaya interjects, nonchalantly sipping his latte.

 

Ursus makes a face. “What do you mean?”

 

“Last night?” Izaya smirks at the blush that floods Ursus’ face and neck. “I thought I did pretty good, but I wanna know what you think.”

 

Ursus opens and closes his mouth like a fish, and Izaya laughs as he’s reminded of something he can’t quite place.

 

“I-It was...” Ursus stumbles over his words before regaining his posture and blurting, “ _ perfect _ .”

 

Now it’s Izaya’s turn to blush. He hadn’t expected to get that kind of reaction, and had honestly only prompted the question with the promise of embarrassing Ursus to rise that adorable blush. 

 

Ursus starts gesticulating with his hands, “You were amazing– like, I didn’t know I could feel like that, so thank you for opening it up to me, but I think you might have ruined me,” he laughs, smirking. “Even the sex I’ve had never felt that good.”

 

Izaya is practically foaming at the mouth. He’s flushed with so much blood in his head that he’s getting dizzy. On top of that, he’s pretty sure that Ursus just lowkey dropped a proposition for sex. Either that, or he’s a huge pervert, but regardless, he’d say yes in the blink of an eye. He entertains Shinra’s previous notion that maybe he is a slut, but this is the first time he’s felt so physically enamoured with anyone, so Shinra can, frankly, fuck off. 

 

“By the way!” Izaya quips. “Who was that name you said?”

 

“What name?”

 

Oh, good God.

 

“Oh you know, when you were balls deep down my throat you moaned out a name. I’m a little curious as to who it was.” Izaya ignores the cold sweat at Ursus’ inability to remember. Maybe it was subconscious?

 

His hands are balled into fists on the table they share in his embarrassed frenzy. “First of all, we are  _ in public, _ ” he growls, with a criticizing eyebrow raise to go with it. “Second, I don’t remember what name I happened to call. Maybe it was a filler for me not knowing your name.”

 

It’s a jab, and Izaya knows it. “I could say the same for you.”

 

There’s a shadow of a scowl before there’s a smile on Ursus’ face, and Izaya pulls his mask back down to cover his whole face again. Then there’s an actual scowl sent his way that Izaya pointedly ignores. 

 

Izaya calls for the waitress, and removes 2000 yen from his wallet he had hidden with his phones. Ursus always looks so distressingly fascinated with Izaya’s simple party tricks, but he chooses not to pick on him for it. He asks for the check, to which she refuses, claiming that the story she could tell about the two was enough of payment already. Izaya leaves the bills on the table, telling her to keep it as a tip before he grabs Ursus’ hand and pulls him outside.

 

“That was a lot of money for a tip,” Ursus inquires, curious. 

 

“Money isn’t much to me.” A sharp wind howls through the frozen air, and Izaya can’t help but shiver. “It’s pretty late. Wanna call it a night?”

 

“Yeah sure,” Ursus sighs, and Izaya moves to leave. However, a weak tug onto his hand stops him in his tracks. “What, no kiss? And here I thought I was on a date with a nice gentleman.”

 

“Is this a date?” Izaya laughs.

 

“It can be,” Ursus mutters, his previous confidence gone from his voice with the wind.

 

“Alright,” Izaya stalks into his arms and hums contently as they cautiously wrap around his waist, “I had a great time on our first date, Ursus.”

 

“Me too. See you tomorrow?” 

 

“Of course,” Izaya purrs.

 

Ursus is the one that initiates the kiss after Izaya pulls back his mask. It’s just as gentle as he is and laced with the taste of chocolate and sugar. Something to which Izaya feels obligated to taint, and he does. He pushes back with more vigor, and pulls his tongue across Ursus’ bottom lip. He obliges, of course, allowing Izaya to languidly search for his taste behind that disgusting sweetness of his drink. He’ll never get enough of how much Ursus can absolutely take him over. Every bit of contact, from the hand lightly cupping his face, to the arm that’s pulling their chests together, Izaya feels the choking burn of lust and  _ love _ dig their way under his skin. 

 

And he does nothing to stop it.

 

Why would he want to when he hasn’t felt anything this  _ right _ in his life? Everything is as it should be, he’s sure. 

  
Until it’s not, and Ursus pulls away with a flushed face and shallow breath. He smiles that radiantly perfect way, and delivers a quick peck to Izaya’s lips with a sense of finality and a silent good night. He leaves after that, and Izaya is standing there with a dopey smile and a dangerous sense of ignorance to the various smart phones with cameras directed at the separated pair.


	7. haha not rlly a chapter lmao

Hey so this isn't really a chapter this is a promo for a blog dedicated to this series. It will feature fan art, podcasts between us authors, and podfics recorded by either me or Kiara.

The url is nightwatchcrew.tumblr.com

Be sure to go follow it! There's a podfic of Kiara reading the first part of chapter six- which will be broken into two chapters. A three page piece from Namie's point of View and a second part from Shizuo's point of view! 

Thanks for reading! If you wanna send any fan art to the three of us please send it there!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mini chapter wooooo

Shiki has a bouquet of white orchids delivered to Izaya at around eleven. When Izaya doesn’t call him to thank him for the apology, he sends a rather expensive white diamond bracelet. It’s silver and would look perfect on his wrist. The white diamonds would highlight how fair his delicate skin is. There was a lot of thought put into it, but Izaya keeps it in its box, even going as far as to offer it to Namie. When she says she doesn’t want anything from a creep like him, Izaya decides that he’ll pawn it off. At least he may make a bit of cash for the headache.

 

It was a sweet gesture, though. The flowers that were gifted were the ones that Izaya found the most tolerable, and an expensive piece of jewelry reminds him of their time together. He stares at the velvet box as the regret he expects at the memory doesn’t come. They were happy together, he admits. At least for a while. Since he’s being honest with himself, he has to admit that the bracelet is beautiful. It’s definitely something Izaya would wear. He reaches for it; however, the way the sun reflects across the metal and stone reminds Izaya of something. 

 

A kind smile.

 

A sweet laugh.

 

And the way the moon’s light bounces off the copper in his goggles.

 

It was a date. They were dating. Izaya gingerly presses his fingers to his lips, the memories of the kiss still taking his breath away. Ursus tasted like something completely foreign and original. Unfortunately, it was masked under a layer of chocolate and the sweet burn of cinnamon. It was deep and passionate and so fulfilling! Izaya didn’t know how badly he had needed that until it happened. And now, hours later, he is still getting lost at the feel of ghost limbs wrapping protectively around his waist and pulling him into the best kiss he’s ever had.

 

They’re dating.

 

Ursus is his.

 

It doesn’t seem like much, but when Izaya has been mentally calling dibs for a few months now, it’s a weight off of his shoulders he chooses not to analyze. 

 

“You look a little twitterpatted. Are you alright?” Namie asks, knowing Izaya is gonna say he’s fine.

 

“I guess I am,” he smiles. 

 

Namie makes a face of concern crossed with disgust. And maybe she is. Normally, a happy Izaya is a ton of bad news; however, she's pretty sure he's too wiped out to do anything too terrible. Aside from that, he normally boasts about his plans, and it didn't take long for her to notice the alarming lack of fucked up chess games adorning his desk. He seems relaxed, despite the exhaustion settled so deeply into his bones that even Namie is starting to grow worried. Well, even more than she already is. 

 

Ironically, she wishes he would just tell her about it rather than dancing around the topic under the guise of “being fine.” She swears that if he tries to shoo her away with such a half-assed answer again, she’s gonna drop kick him in the throat.

 

She tells him this.

 

He asks what her obsession is with his neck.

 

Namie doesn’t bring it up again.

 

Izaya’s been dancing around the apartment like he’s light as air. Namie is sure she even saw his feet leave the ground for just a second too long, but she doesn’t focus on it. When he starts to hum some song that twinges between familiarity and confusion, she pays closer attention. He’s almost gliding through his apartment. That is, until the delivery man knocks on the door with the orchids. He seems immediately dejected, and she notes the grimace that crosses his face as he reads the note. She doesn’t prod. He’s thankful for it. 

 

He’s humming that stupid song again– until he’s not, as another knock resounds a few hours later. This time, it’s a bag. It’s black. White tissue paper sticks out of the top like icebergs from an unforgiving sea. It reminds the both of them of betrayal; however, neither decides to address the unspoken understanding. Namie knew about Shiki and him, and luckily, for her job and his dignity, she didn’t tease him about it. Namie had begun working for Izaya when he was sixteen, so she was there to see his heartbreak and downfall. It was the only time she’d ever seen him cry, and she was there for him, taking the role of a sympathetic mother as the sight of him sobbing and broken reminded her of Seiji. Namie hugged him while he cried, and Izaya made special precautions to never show that level of weakness again. 

 

They’ve been together ever since, and Izaya upheld his end of the bargain. He makes silent suffering look like an art form, and if she were being honest, Namie’s a little jealous of his ability. He could tell she didn’t want to be there for him, so he cut her out entirely. It just made things easier. If she took time out of her day to ask about his, he lied and gave her one word answers. 

 

He’s fine.

 

He’s always fine.

 

Even when he obviously isn’t, Izaya is fine.

 

As much as he tries to stonewall her, Namie can tell. She cares about him, probably because she saw him grow from a bratty teenager to a slightly larger, bratty man. Even that was a bit of a stretch. Izaya deserved a little better than that. He turned into the picture of sophisticated grace, at least in her eyes. He was tall and always dapper. The only part of his body that wasn’t strategically constructed were his eyes. Bright and red in the right light. They were the only thing about Izaya that he didn’t have complete cognitive control over. Pools of vermillion that were so expressive that anyone could get lost in them– they conveyed so much pain and heartbreak that she’s surprised they aren’t constantly red and puffy with tears.

 

It isn’t fair that he’s still pretty when he’s crying. 

 

He offers her the bracelet, understandably. She wouldn’t want to keep a thoughtful gift from someone that broke her heart either. It just proves that his ex still knew him and knew what would catch his fancy. She just really hopes that Izaya isn’t gonna allow himself to fall back into Shiki’s arms. 

 

She’s so worried about him, and she can’t get him to open up. Namie understands, though. She really does. The only people that have ever had the liberty of seeing what was behind that indifferent façade of carefully constructed lies for his own protection had taken advantage of him and hurt him. Namie clicks her tongue as she looks over at him. While he does look like he could sleep for about a week straight, he looks happy– happier than she had seen him in a really long time. For all she knows, maybe he did finally get laid. 

 

Namie is unfortunate enough to be caught staring at her boss, something she’s been doing a lot more lately. She immediately breaks eye contact in favor of looking at the reflection of his screen on the window behind him. Why he’s looking up apple pie recipes is lost on her; she just hopes to God he isn’t gonna try to make one. 

 

Izaya stands a bit abruptly, the wheels of the chair he was in pushing against the glass behind him with a soft tap. He shuts his laptop after that and retires upstairs. He takes the bracelet with him.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BOOM BONUS TWO IN ONE NIGHT WHAT IS THIS HAHA. This chapter is from Shizuo's POV btw

Shizuo took a few deep breaths. After all, Tom and Varona were currently staring at him like they were expecting the worst, and he had no intentions of letting them down again. So he took a moment, trying his damndest to keep his irregularly short fuse from blowing. Shizuo’s shitty temper was nothing weird, but it had been especially terrible as of late. And like everything else in his life, Shizuo could blame it on  _ Izaya _ . Just the thought of his name had him grinding his teeth together like a saw mill. 

 

Especially now that Izaya was being weird. Shinra wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it either, and that was what originally had pushed him over the edge. Shizuo didn’t feel like fighting a few weeks ago, when the two of them had crossed paths on his way to Shinra’s. The weirdest part of that was that Shizuo couldn’t smell Izaya. Even when he followed him into that alley, he didn’t smell like a flea. 

 

That rat bastard had a variety of smells dependent on what he was doing– really dependent on just how much meddling he had been doing. When he was simply there, existing in Ikebukuro for the sheer fact of being there, he reeked of mildew and hard water. Something moist and easily identifiable that stuck in the air– like it was purposefully painted around Shizuo. Like he wanted to be found. When he was there in passing, maybe for something obtrusive or a meeting with a client, he smelt like acrylic paints, poured fresh from the bottle and permeating the air around the canvas. Not quite awful, but still unpleasant and undesirable. 

 

Shizuo was never a painter. He’d get mad when the piece wouldn’t turn out the way he wanted and destroyed his work. He still sketched though! Especially when he was bored, Shizuo would doodle on random pieces of paper here and there. He especially liked dogs.

 

That’s another thing. For all that Izaya said he was like a dog, Izaya sure as hell smelt like a wet one. It was in those moments between paint and mold, when Izaya let his guard down into his phone’s screen and an inkling of a frown graces that mask of smirks and words that cut sharper than his knives. When his shoulders are slumped bitterly and a trudge sets into his steps that’s not noticeable to anyone who hasn’t observed and learned of his behaviors– he looks sad. When he looks sad, Shizuo is sure Izaya must be incredibly sad, especially if he would allow something as human as emotion to cross that face of the self-proclaimed god. 

 

When he was enacting a plan was when Izaya smelt the worst. He leaked an absolutely rancid odor of alcohol-based ink and spray paint. Fresh and wet and heavy, coating everything like an oil that the rain couldn’t wash away. It digs into your nose, until it’s the only thing you can think about. It was there, and it stayed until Izaya’s plot was foiled– which it never was– or came to an end. Shizuo tended to be lightheaded from its intensity. On top of that, he was more likely than not covered in physical wounds. Shinra once said that Shizuo picked up on Izaya’s smell so easily because it was love. 

 

Celty punched him in the stomach, and Shizuo destroyed their couch. 

 

However, none of that had explained why he couldn’t smell Izaya  _ at all _ in that alley. Once he got close enough, he smelt like something sweet and foreign. If Shizuo didn’t know better than to associate that parasite with nice things, he would have claimed to appreciate it.

 

His weirdly soft hearted thoughts accompanied by the pleading man in front of him left Shizuo beyond pissed off. This twat waffle took out a loan to buy his son a car so he could get laid. It’s always for sex– people who take out money tend to be like that. Anger-fuelled adrenaline crashes through his veins like a rough river flooded during a war; like a trench being filled with something that cries out in a furious rage.  

 

Vorona places a hand on his arm in such a way that Shizuo can’t help but want to shake it off. It feels too intimate. The sympathetic lining in her thistle eyes rubs him in a wrong way. It’s not guilt or shame– he knows both of those all too well– but there’s something off about it. Her gaze feels primal and claiming, and Shizuo doesn’t like how it sits on his skin and rots in his heart. 

 

But then there’s anger again as he turns on his heels and takes ten steps behind Tom’s confused look. Itzal told him once, when he said he had problems with his temper, to think of a song. Shizuo said he didn’t have any that just popped in his head, so Itzal took the opportunity to sing one. He took Shizuo’s hand, and he tried not to flinch at the feeling of ice in his fingers. Then he sang. It was something in English about him and Itzal and honeymoons and failure. It didn’t sound too happy in words, but the melody was alright and Shizuo would have bet money on the ghost of a smile underneath his mask.

 

He needs to ask him what that song is and buy it because he immediately is floating on cloud nine, all the anger washed from his body like rain. Maybe it was just the fact that Itzal was singing it.

 

Yeah, that’s probably it. 

 

Either way, it works. He’s calmed, and his shoulders relax. He stands again and goes for a cigarette, lighting it quickly before striding back to Vorona and Tom. The smile on his face speaks a million words of mystery and underlying meanings. Tom wants to ask. Vorona wants to scream. Neither of them act on their desires. Shizuo, as calmly as he can seem to muster, lifts the man by his collar until their faces are level. He looks scared, no doubt, and who wouldn’t be?

 

Shizuo clicks his tongue in irritation and flips the man so he’s holding his ankles and shakes him vigorously. The man’s wallet comes toppling out of his suit jacket and Shizuo kicks it over to Tom. Conveniently, this man has enough money in his wallet to cover at least a deposit on his debt, and Shizuo tosses him into a nearby wall. When his eyes focus on Shizuo striding toward him again, he chokes out some strangled promise of paying in full tomorrow. Apparently, it’s enough for Shizuo, as he strides back over to Vorona and Tom, both equally relieved and startled by the change of attitude. 

 

What ever their faces read, it’s starting to piss him off, so he looks at the sky and imagines a piercing red glow shrouded in a canopy of black, and a laugh so light it sounds new. Maybe Itzal didn’t have a good childhood and never really got to laugh a lot. Regardless, it wasn’t any of Shizuo’s business and he was prepared to leave it at that. If he wanted to talk about it, he would have.

 

The idea of someone relying on Shizuo for their inherent happiness is something completely foreign and intimidating. He can handle protection– his brother required compassion when being raised, and he was nothing more than a cheap entertainment piece for that louse. But someone like Itzal, who practically bleeds grace and organization, could do much better than Shizuo– at least in his eyes. He feels like with the inclusion of Itzal in a romantic square rather than a platonic one, the two will have to give up their identities, but then Shizuo remembers that he is feared and seen as a monster by the entire city of Tokyo. He ponders how Itzal would react. But the dread that carves its way into a hollow in his chest promptly forces him to ignore it.

 

They’ll cross that bridge when they get to it, but for now, he’s okay with the semisweet permanence of their current arrangement.  

 

Brilliant shades of orange cut into the blue of the sky, and Tom calls it a night. He places a hand on Shizuo’s shoulder and tells him that he’s proud of the way Shizuo handled that last collection. Then he goes on about being worried and if he ever needs to talk, Tom is there. Shizuo promises that he’s fine. Both of them know it’s dismissive, and Shizuo is pretty sure that Tom thinks it’s a lie. And maybe it is. He isn’t fine. He feels calm and happy– both of which he hasn’t ever really had. 

 

Shizuo lights a cigarette as he starts to walk home. Today was easy, and if he’s honest, he’s really excited to see Itzal. It frightens him a bit; how quickly someone who’s name he doesn’t even know is able to completely consume his thoughts for hours. Thinking back to his parents, this must be what they meant. Kasuka and Shizuo grew up on the stories of their love, from the first sight in high school to the floaty feeling they still get when they see each other, and thinks that they were right. That gentle burning ache in his chest. That’s what love is. 

 

He’s in love with Itzal. 

 

Shizuo just silently hopes he can love the person behind the mask even more. 

 

He’s so lost in his memories of black smoke and icy hands, that he doesn’t even notice the mob forming around him until the first bullet plunges into his shoulder. It’s another gang, nothing new, so Shizuo immediately blames Izaya. Then five other guns are fired, all of which crashing into his abdomen and thighs, and Shizuo realizes that this is a hit, and Izaya wouldn’t send for a hit on him. 

 

He barely registers the click of the safety on a  _ fucking shotgun _ before he springs into action. Bodies are thrown, and blood, mainly his, flies everywhere as a new flood of bullets smack into him. He doesn’t think about it, simply choosing to let his anger consume him. He blacks out at that– well, metaphorically that is. He’s covered in blood when he’s done and everyone around him is groaning in pain. Most of the guns are bent at awkward angles rendering them useless and Shizuo decides to keep going home. Until the blood loss and deflated lung kicks in and he immediately turns on his heel and slowly trudges to Shinra’s.

 

“Oh my god! Shizuo?!” Shinra almost screams when Shizuo finally makes it up the stairs.

 

Celty pops to her feet in an instant, taking on his weight as she heads toward Shinra’s operating room. Shinra washes his hands, and asks him what happened, but everything is too fuzzy for him to register it. When the pain pill is forced into his mouth, Shizuo passes out after he swallows. 

 

Everything falls into consciousness hours later. So many hours later, in fact, that Shinra and Celty have already retired to bed, according to the note, pills, and glass of water Celty had obviously placed on the nightstand. She also took special precaution to ask him not to go out as Ursus tonight. He doesn’t think he’ll listen to her. 

 

The LED clock also situated there reads that it’s after two am. And god fucking damn it, Itzal is probably wondering where the fuck he is.  He pulls himself to his feet, and immediately regrets that decision as he nearly falls back down. He’s still a little foggy from the blood loss and minor narcotics coursing through his system, but Shizuo trudges along anyway, leaving a delicate little trail of blood from his torso. He gets down the stairs with one hand clamped to the wall beside him and the other tucked under his rib cage, clutching the bullet hole leaking the most. 

 

He makes it into the alley way behind Shinra’s apartment before he hears a booming yell of “there he is,” and a bullet ricochets off of a pipe by Shizuo’s face. He has enough time to turn around and square his shoulders before Itzal gracefully slides in front of him from the gap between the buildings, dividing him and the gaggle of dicks with guns. They fire a bullet, and Shizuo instinctively shoots his arm out to protect Itzal, but said bullet stops just shy of his right eye- hovering in mid air. 

 

Itzal growls out a laugh that sounds much more sinister than any hero ever should. The bullet drops lamely in the palm of his extended hand, and he rolls it between his impossibly long fingers. It becomes painted in a seemingly impenetrable black smoke before disappearing completely from his grasp. He directs his attention back to the shooter– clicking his tongue in annoyance when he takes aim and empties his clip. All of the bullets are just hanging in stagnant air in front of him.

 

“You see,” he purrs, “I’m not in the best of moods at the moment, and I’m sure you would rather keep all of your limbs than do something  _ stupid _ .”

 

The gun falls uselessly from his shaking hands, clattering silently onto the pavement. Itzal pulls his feet off the ground and hovers there as the bullets fall like rain onto the concrete. He makes it a decent two feet before the group of dick bags take off screaming. 

 

Itzal chuckles happily and turns to face Shizuo.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, and Shizuo can hear the smile in his voice. 

 

He can also feel his face heating up. Itzal lets out another small laugh and ruffles Shizuo’s hair just a bit. He flies back up maybe ten feet before tossing a “Stay safe” over his shoulder and taking off into the night. 

 

Shizuo decides that he is too embarrassed to go meet up with him tonight as Ursus– he wouldn’t be able to keep from blushing or stuttering like an idiot. Well– even more like an idiot then that awful silence and muted squawking he just barked out in front of Itzal. Maybe he should listen to Celty after all, and with that thought in mind, he returns to Shinra’s. He slips upstairs and lays back down, choosing not pull the blanket over himself.

  
His skin feels hot enough anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we risE FROM THE ASHES AND REVIVE!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW your ap exams and finals are kicking ur ass and u kinda wanna die. Some of you may notice that wolfpoots has been removed from the story, I personally regret to inform you that he will no longer be part of the Night Watch Team. Personal affairs as well as the general better mental health of my person. Sorry guys.

He got stood up! He actually got stood up by Ursus when he  _ promised _ to be there. And on top of his soured night, Shizuo had to go and get himself almost fucking killed forcing Izaya to step in and pretend to be the hero. Well, technically he was the hero– but that wasn’t the point! He was trying to keep his distance during the entirety of this job, not toss himself directly in front of that idiot in the alleyway. It wasn’t all bad, however. It  _ was _ the perfect test for all the work he’s been doing with his newly discovered telekinetic powers.

 

“Orihara, are you listening to me?” 

 

Oh right. Shiki was sitting in his apartment, berating Izaya for the speed he was going in finishing this job. The infamously speedy informant was wasting his time and giving him half-assed, seemingly made up answers to basic questions, and Shiki was getting annoyed. 

 

“Of course I am. You’re calling me slow, but I assure you that Ikebukuro’s hero is being quite elusive, and I have strict orders from  _ you _ to avoid Itzal. However, that in itself is already difficult enough considering they’re practically glued together.”

 

Izaya growls out the “except for last night I suppose” under his breath.

 

“Assuming ‘Itzal’ is the one with the blood lust, I gave that order for your own safety. I just don’t want you ending up dead like the others that seem to face off with him.”

 

“Be careful,” Izaya warns. “You’re starting to sound like you still care about me.”

 

“I do,” Shiki assures him.

 

“Maybe you should care about your wife instead of wasting your affections on someone that doesn’t want them,” he spits.

 

“Glad you appreciate the gift.” 

 

The subject change was so evident that Izaya almost launches himself across his desk to choke the other out. Instead he tucks the bracelet under the sleeve of his sweater and pushes his nose up. 

 

“I’ll get back to you if I have any updates. In the meantime, you are my client and any past relationship we may have had is over and done with. I expect that you of all people would be professional enough to respect that, Shiki-san.” 

 

Shiki stands then, disappointed anger carved into his face as he bids Izaya farewell. 

 

“Why are you wearing it if you didn’t want him to notice?” Namie growls, more hostility than he thinks is necessary.

 

“It’s a gift. It’d be rude to not at least humor him.”

 

“But in your process of humoring him, you’re leading him on. The more you accept his gifts, the more he’s gonna think that you want to get back together.”

 

Izaya doesn’t answer, but the piece of jewelry suddenly feels a lot heavier on his skin. He takes it off and drops it onto his desk, pushing it away from himself and retrieving his keyboard. He sniffs around a few social media websites: LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook, and even Instagram, but that’s where he sees  _ it _ .

 

_ It  _ being a tender embrace. The moon casting the best of shadows onto two bodies joined into a common silhouette. A gloved hand on a black face. Two smoky arms wrapped around a strong neck. An arm pulling the two into one another where their lips meet. It’s a beautiful picture. The perfect lighting conveys just how romantically intimate the moment is for both involved. Unfortunately, he’s one of the two involved. It was a photo taken during their kiss just two nights ago. There’s a few thousand shares, and a couple hundred comments and then the name comes up. “#Urzal” is the first tag on the picture.

 

Now, any good informant should know what the latest trends are. At least that’s what Izaya tells himself as he shamefully searches Urzal in a google tab. There are about twenty six photos of the kiss. Some are covered in some overly dramatic filter. Others have been edited to enhance the color of the moon or the glow in Izaya’s eyes. Either way, Izaya loves them all more than he’s willing to admit. He even saved a few of them to his computer into a password protected folder. There’s other pieces of fanart. There’s also a few fanfictions- some being severely explicit, involving Izaya getting fucked into next year in some back alley by Ursus, but then there are others that involve gentle caresses and declarations of true feeling. Izaya decides that he craves both.

 

Izaya tugs his jacket over his arms and makes his way outside. Shinra had requested that Izaya come over for tea or something like that. It was early in the morning; he wasn’t paying much attention. With the sun beating down his neck on his way over there, Izaya begins to regret his choice of bringing his jacket. Of course, however, while he may be making changes in his personal life, he has a reputation to keep up for the outsiders looking in. 

 

The innocent people who Izaya used to thrive on were blind to the ways that he was retracting from their life. He was leaving them be. He was allowing them to grow and learn on their own paths predetermined by fate, or God, or choice– Izaya was done going out of his way to pull strings for a reaction. It wasn’t good for him. It wasn’t good for his friends. It wasn’t good for the humans he loved oh so much. And that’s just it. He  _ loved  _ them. Now that he’s trying to blend into their persons, he can’t help but despise how mundane they live. He’s not one of them– Izaya Orihara could never be one of them. He can’t find peace in that complacency. He can’t bring himself to be satisfied with the predictable and the boring.

 

Not that the whole “exploring the powers he was cursed with” thing is boring. And there’s nothing boring about Ursus. Maybe he just needs a new hobby, or at least some way to wrap Ursus into his daily life. He goes over the things he knows: for one, he’s got a brother that travels a lot for his job. He doesn’t have a lot of culture, as he seems ignorant to current social fads, and was so surprised by Izaya’s ability to play. He’s never left the country. He’s clumsy. He’s kind, and sweet, and nice. He’s about as pure as a twenty something year old man can be. At least he was before Izaya choked on his dick in a semi-public setting.

 

It wasn’t much to go on, and Shinichi had even less information than Izaya did. It was what it was. Izaya found himself in love with someone he didn’t really know and immediately felt sick to his stomach. He used to think situations like this, where the lovers knew nothing about each other, were weak and easily breakable. He would bring up how their love wasn’t real, and no matter what the pixels on the screen read, they could never touch. They would never know what it was like to be held by the person they loved so much. Those poor people... 

 

There were six of them that had actually died. They had defied Izaya’s expectations, and his poor planning cost them their life. He brushed it off, swearing to himself that it would have happened without his intervention, but he knew he was lying to himself. That was another thing about Izaya. He never really lied to anyone that wasn’t himself. At least, he saved all the major lies for himself. If he could convince himself that he was okay, then he could convince other people. He had been doing it for so long at this point that it didn’t seem like a lie. He’s fine, and he’s okay. 

 

The only honest part about that is that he was starting to get there. He was starting to feel better, and for the first time in  _ years _ he felt like he was getting better. He knew he was broken and hurt and, though he would never admit it aloud, he is mentally ill. He is depressed. He is scared. He decided that he didn’t have empathy and after years of doing horrible things to innocent people, he was paying the price for it.  _ He _ is the bad guy. He had been the bad guy his entire life. A bad man hiding amongst humans, playing God with their lives so Izaya didn’t have to own up to how terrible he was. He placed himself on such a high horse that he wouldn’t have to face up to his demons. He was a coward. He was a monster. He was much more of a monster than Shizuo would have or could have ever been. His strength was what made Shizuo a monster. It was his actions, his thoughts, his words, and his mind that made Izaya a monster. Izaya chose to become a monster and called himself a god so he could call Shizuo a monster. It was sick. It was weak. It  _ hurt _ . It hurt him so much. And maybe that’s why he wanted to change. He felt guilt. It was raw, and real, and awful, but it was there. He needed to apologize. He needed to make up for it. He needed to–

 

“You should watch where you’re going,  _ flea _ .”

 

Gruff. Deep. A little hoarse if he was being honest. Shizuo Heiwajima, whose arms were stuck up in defense when Izaya crashed into his chest, was staring down at him with hurt annoyance. 

 

“Oh Shizu-ch– I mean Shizuo. Sorry! I didn’t see you there,” Izaya laughs, really wanting to hightail it away from that scrutinizing gaze. 

 

“How didn’t you see me? You tend to see me everywhere else,” Shizuo growls, but for the first time, probably since they’ve known each other, he doesn’t sound mad. 

 

Izaya takes a step back and Shizuo keeps avoiding his eyes. He looks like a kicked puppy, sad, and hurt, and betrayed. His shoulders are slumped a little, like he’s trying to shrink into nonexistence. One of his hands is cupping the back of his neck, rubbing it a little roughly. When honey meets crimson, Shizuo flinches away like he’s been pricked by a thorn. Izaya can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of his throat. Light and airy. Clean and void of malice. It isn’t natural for Shizuo to be acting like he’s afraid of Izaya. There’s probably a pig taking flight somewhere away from where the two are standing– a yin yang of power blending into nothing more than a gray circle.

 

“Please stop... with  _ that face _ !” Izaya chokes out between his maniacal laughter. “Fear isn’t a good look on you.”

 

Izaya rights himself and watches as Shizuo nervously runs his hands through his hair and messes with his cuff links. Tom looks like he’s torn between confusion and anxiety, and Varona looks slightly irritated. Nothing new, he supposes. Aside from Shizuo being a huge baby, and Izaya not taking advantage for once, nothing is out of the ordinary. The boring and complacent. The typical and assumable. They’re acting exactly like typical humans, and Izaya finds them, well,  _ boring _ . Shizuo is nothing like them. That’s why he always called him a monster. He wasn’t predictable. He  _ wasn’t _ boring. He was bold, and stupid, and creative in the damn near worst of ways, but he was still completely not human. He couldn’t be human when he was so unalike them. No, Shizuo was different, but Izaya couldn’t bare to not love someone who adores human life so much to try to imitate it. After all, that’s what Shizuo is. He’s something foreign living the life of a lie, attempting to become like the things Izaya just loves to observe, and Izaya can’t blame him. Complacency is meant for some, and not for others. Izaya can’t stand the boring, and Shizuo dreams of it. Maybe they could learn from each other– develop an equilibrium of sorts from their ideals. 

 

“Shizuo, I think you and I should go somewhere and chat.”

 

He’s not exactly sure what he was doing. At the very least, he’s not sure why he said it. Maybe it’s because that gaze in his golden eyes sits on Izaya’s skin like oil and drags against his nerves like razors. Maybe it’s because he’s consumed with something akin to guilt at the fear in his posture. Shizuo shouldn’t be afraid of him– sure, Izaya’s the monster now, but Shizuo doesn’t know that. All he knows is that something happened, and Izaya is trying to better himself. That’s where he left it. That’s what they know. They don’t know that Izaya has resigned to his position under humanity as an evil, ugly little smudge trying to remain undetected–

 

That! That’s what Shizuo wants! He wants to remain undetected! That’s the mundane behavior he wants. He wants his secrecy. His isolation. 

 

And it's the one thing Izaya hasn't let him have. He can deal with one simple lunch. Almost painfully reluctantly, Shizuo agrees to go with Izaya. He should laugh. He really wants to laugh. Izaya wants to throw his head back and laugh maniacally, but he doesn't. Instead he takes hold of Shizuo's hand just to see what would happen, and pulls him along to some nameless restaurant a few blocks away. He doesn't look back and pointedly ignores the way Shizuo doesn't immediately shove him off. He ignores how warm his face feels at the thought. And most importantly, Izaya ignores the way Shizuo's fingers tighten around his for a fraction of a second before he lets go to sit down at the table.

 

Izaya orders wine for the both of them, and Shizuo doesn't object. He was even considerate enough to pick something he sees as disgustingly sweet. After all, healthy friendships require sacrifice, and Shizuo just gave up his afternoon work hours. The waitress leaves, and Izaya takes in the scenery as he waits for Shizuo to build up his courage and get his ducks in order. The interior is just as boring and immemorable as the name. Black wood floors, white walls, built in shelves with photos and flowers. Each chair is sophisticated, but uncomfortable, and tucked underneath a white table cloth. Izaya thinks the tables are probably a cheaply strained oak, rather than the dark cherry wood the rest of the restaurant is painted in. There are jars with purple, white, and green fake flowers and unnecessary water in the center of each table and one boring faded purple candle on the table. The second movement of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik by Mozart is playing from a blown out speaker in the background, and Izaya is proud of his ability to identify it correctly. The staff looks bored. The few other people in the restaurant look bored. And Izaya, of course, is bored. Shizuo on the other hand looks like he's just been thrown into Nam for the first time, and doesn’t know how to hold a gun. Izaya pities him for a moment and picks at his menu. Izaya pities him for a moment and picks at his menu. Once again, his inobservance backfires as the entire menu is in French. Fucking French. He can read it fluently. He can speak it well enough. However actually listening to it is a nightmare, unless in music. So he flips through it numbly until he lands on the “rôti salade César au saumon.” He could use the nutrients, and it’s something nice and light to go with the strawberry wine. 

 

Shizuo is still staring almost ferociously at the glass jar on the table, and Izaya chooses to gently nudge him out of his stupor. He places his hand, as delicately as possible, on Shizuo’s forearm and when he rips his eyes to Izaya’s his giving him the most compassionate gaze he can seem to muster. 

 

“I didn’t realize this was a Parisian restaurant. The entire menu is in French, so what are you hungry for? I’ll find something and order it for you,” Izaya says, and he feels like it sounds more like a mother talking to her son, rather than two grown ass men at the single most awkward meal of his life.

 

“I- uh… I’m not… you don’t have to…”

 

“It’s fine, Shizuo. Lunch is on me. I’ll just find something hearty for you.” He smiles sweetly.  

 

The waitress returns and cuts off whatever response was caught in Shizuo’s throat. She places down two glasses of ice water and pours each of them a glass of Brut sparkling. She’s inexperienced, and it shows in the fullness of their cups (which are champagne glasses, but Izaya figures he’ll make a snide comment on one thing at a time). 

 

She straightens out her pencil skirt and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Bienvenue à Guy Savoy . Que désirez-vous?”

 

Shizuo makes the single most confused face of his life, and Izaya orders to spare him the embarrassment. “Je vais devoir le rôti salade César au saumon . Eh bien fait sur le poisson, et il aura le Bourguignon de boeuf , mais au lieu de vin rouge, utiliser le même blanc pour la table.”

 

He spews it off casually, but in reality, he’s kind of surprised he could come up with that. It all sounded coherent. at least coherent  _ enough _ , for the waitress to nod a quick “merci” before disappearing into the kitchen. Izaya taps his feet under the table in pride. Then, he looks back up at Shizuo, who looks a bit more horrified now than he originally was. This is all just a big joke, in retrospect. Here they are, Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara, known as everyone around them as the two worst enemies in all of Tokyo– probably in all of Japan, who have actively tried to murder each other for the last  _ literal decade _ on sight, sitting in this boring little restaurant and having lunch like old friends. Izaya was having a hard time containing himself at the hilarity of it all. The sheer irony that now Izaya was a hero, even though no one knew it, and Izaya was the monster, and now, on top of all of that, Shizuo was playing the role of the scared little boy too caught up for his own good. 

 

“Why are you doing this?” His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally talks.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“This?!” He gestures as though that explains it. “All of this! You’re being... _ nice... _ to  _ me! _ It’s weird.”

 

Izaya gently wraps his hands around the neck of his wine glass, threading his fingers together around the cool glass, and waits to see if Shizuo is finished. 

 

Evidently he isn’t. “And then you...”

 

He runs his hands up and down the back of his neck nervously.

 

“...You kissed me... I didn’t even know what to do. I swear I blacked out and I don’t even remember destroying your apartment like that.”

 

Izaya cocks his head to the side. When did Shizuo destroy his–  _ right _ ! The furniture. That was Izaya’s fault, but it’s not like Shizuo needed to know that. He figures it’s as close as an apology as he’s gonna get from Shizuo, and finally sips his wine. It’s sweet, and he hates it, but Shizuo would like it, so Izaya deals with it. 

 

He’s gonna be pissed if Shizuo doesn’t so much as  _ sip _ his wine.

 

“I don’t exactly have a good response for you,” Izaya stated honestly, finishing off the last of his glass.

 

“And you expect me to believe that?” he growls. “You have a response for  _ everything _ . You never show anything you don’t want seen– what the fuck makes you think I’m just gonna take your word for it that this isn’t all part of some shitty plan of yours?

 

“Listen,” Izaya sighs tiredly, “I’ve had a really... eye opening experience the last few months, and I’m trying this new thing where I let the things around me happen as they would have it– I’m simply trying to ensure that these events go in my favour.”

 

“So you  _ are _ planning something!”

 

“I’m  _ planning _ ,” he spits, “on fixing the bad things. I’m just like everyone else, Shizuo. I want to be happy, and if you want to stop me from fixing lives instead of destroying them, that’s your problem.”

 

Shizuo sits silently at that, not commenting on Izaya’s outburst and finally takes a swig of the wine.

 

“I’m trying to be your  _ friend _ . The only reason you hate me is because you think I’m this horrible, awful person that stabbed their friend in middle school, and I get why you would think that, but did it never occur to you to ask?”

 

Shizuo’s avoiding his eyes now.

 

“Shinra got in the way. That knife was meant for me.”

 

A chill runs up his spine, and his hands clench into fists. Shizuo stays silent, so Izaya continues.

 

“I know I’ve done some terrible things to you, but when we first met, that was never my intention. You made assumptions of my character based on  _ rumors _ from middle school, and even if you didn’t want to talk to me about it, you should have asked Shinra. I wanted to be your friend in high school, but I was met with hostility and anger. I simply retaliated.”

 

“You sliced my chest open and got me hit by a truck.”

 

“And you swung for that bench like you wanted to crush it to dust.”

 

The waitress returns a fraction of a second later, and Izaya directs his gaze away from the holes he was staring into the side of Shizuo’s face to watch his plate get dropped in front of him. Suddenly, the salmon isn’t looking as good as he had originally thought, and he makes no move to pick up his fork, simply waiting for this poor girl to finish pouring his wine glass before downing it in the time it took her to fill Shizuo’s. The waitress looks a little concerned to say the least, but fills the glass again anyway.

 

“And I didn’t plan on that truck crashing into you. I didn’t even see it honestly. If you were a little quicker, you wouldn’t have been hit.” Izaya smiles around the rim of his glass, the sweet white wine settling on his pallette like oil. 

 

Maybe he’s hungrier than he thought, or maybe it was watching the way Shizuo began to devour his roast that compels Izaya to gingerly take a bite. The fish is over salted, and the salad itself is too wet. Izaya can see from the way the vegetables sit slack on Shizuo’s plate that they were roasted for a few minutes too long and his beef is under done given the dish it’s served in. However, Shizuo doesn’t seem to notice as he smiles around the fork in his mouth. Maybe they should do this more often– especially if Shizuo was going to act like this at every meal they had. Izaya thinks of taking Shizuo to Aronia de Takazawa, or maybe Kozue. He’d probably enjoy that, especially the way Shizu-chan enjoys the city views and the energetic buzz of the urban centers when it isn’t nefarious. 

 

They eat in silence. Their waitress only comes by a few times more to refill glasses, and check on their meal. Izaya dismisses her with the only phrase he actually is a bit unsure of how to properly pronounce, and he can tell by the look she sends him he isn’t doing it right. 

 

“Nous sommes d'accord, merci.”

 

Luckily she drops the check off without needing to be asked, and dismisses herself promptly. Izaya takes it before Shizuo even has a chance to reach for it. It’s not as though he could really pay for it, but the gesture alone was sweet enough to remind Izaya that Shizuo was really a good person– at least he tried to be. The 5608.02 ¥ price tag for the meal wasn’t much, but he’s pretty sure that’s Shizuo’s entire water bill. He writes out a 5000 ¥ tip for this poor woman having to deal with his shitty attempt at French and potential offense to an entire nation.

 

After he sees her almost cry as she’s running his card and accepting his tip, he decides he is an a personal crusade to better the lives of all service workers, and remove the stereotype that rich people don’t tip well. He will tip well even if it kills him. Izaya has no where near the patience to go through what these poor unfortunate souls have to go through on a daily basis, and he pities them– he really does. And while money isn’t gonna solve all of the problems of the world, it sure as hell doesn’t hurt. She bows, large and radiant of her gratitude before she leaves again. Izaya stacks their now empty plates and places their cups together in an attempt to clean up a little better before they leave. He stands first once he deposits his card back into his wallet, and Shizuo is quick to follow. He is obviously a little more calm now than he was when they had first arrived, potentially growing more used to Izaya’s presence. 

 

It’s chilly when they step outside, but given that it’s December 19th, it’s to be expected. It feels nice to be around Shizuo and not be concerned for his own safety. Shizuo lights a cigarette and the smoke plumes with the heat of his breath against the chill of the air around them. Izaya lets out a giggle at the predictability of it all– he knew Shizuo would be nervous, and he knew that after the meal, he’d at least be better at hiding it, and of course he knew that Shizuo would immediately start to smoke after they left the restaurant, but it doesn’t feel boring in the same sense that everyone else is. He feels eerily drawn to the way Shizuo’s free hand loiters at his waist, and has to resist the urge to take it again while they’re standing there. He doesn’t know why he would feel like that, but he does. He does and he feels weird about it. 

 

“That was nice,” Izaya purrs. “We should do it again sometime. It’s nice to talk you– I’m sure we’ll get to equal amounts of conversation on both sides one day.”

 

Shizuo just grunts and finishes off the last of his cigarette. “I need to get back to Tom.”

 

“Then you should go. He’s probably worried sick about you.”

 

“Thanks for this, by the way. Lunch, I mean. It was fun.”

 

Izaya is beaming! Shizuo just pseudo agreed to another lunch date, and that was eons more that he expected to get. He decides to say his goodbye and head back home, completely forgetting his original intention for leaving the house. And on top of his great day, he gets to go out tonight and see his boyfriend, if he doesn’t get stood up again. He really hopes he doesn’t get stood up again. He hates it when his plans are canceled for him with no good reason

  
Shinra, on the other hand, can deal with Izaya’s unannounced absence just as well as he can deal with Izaya’s sudden appearance. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kinda short lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the absolute king of being gay and sad at the same time lmao

He’s actually there tonight, as opposed to the last. Ursus is standing in the park sheepishly, and Izaya sneaks up behind him and takes his hand. At first he moves to pull away, but upon seeing the glow of Izaya’s eyes peering above his hood, he relaxes and tightens his grip around the others hand.

 

“Where were you yesterday?” Izaya was never one for beating around the bush.

 

“I, uh...” he coughs. “I got hurt pretty bad and ended up staying home.”

 

“Are you okay?! Should you be out right now? How did you get hurt?” 

 

“I was attacked. I had a  _ really _ weird day and wasn’t keeping my guard up. I’m fine now though. I have a friend that’s a doctor, and he stitched me up.” 

 

Izaya hugs him. He’s a little uncomfortable with the reasoning behind it. He wraps his arms around Ursus’ shoulders and stands there. Eventually, he feels Ursus return the embrace around his waist and gently rest his cheek against the top of Izaya’s head. He feels positively drawn to him in every way. Izaya has never been this utterly consumed by anyone. 

 

Shinra used to say Izaya would love obsessively, and maybe he was right. Love was always something so fickle to Izaya that he would outright reject it. If, on the off chance, it managed to carve its way into his heart, it didn’t stop there. Love was something that would affect his mind and body just as much as it did his feelings. It injected itself into his judgement and his morals. It would torture him in the best of ways, and hold him in the worst. Thank God it’s only happened three times. 

 

Shiki was the first, of course. He was Izaya’s first expectations of what love was, and Izaya’s first realization that he could consent to sex, and still feel raped and dirty afterwards. He was Izaya’s first heart break. He was Izaya’s wake up call that ignorance is truly bliss, and the truth may set you free, but it will hurt. It will hurt so bad that it will cripple you from the inside out and consume you in darkness until someone comes through and manages to get through all that pain. Izaya tried really hard to hide it when it happened. He found out about Shiki’s family– it had destroyed him. Shinra had told him that whatever whirlwind romance Izaya was getting swept up in would only hurt him, and Izaya was foolish enough not to believe him. When the betrayal was revealed, Izaya felt robbed of his trust. He felt alone, and useless, and dirty, and broken, and unworthy of being loved again. He was broken, in all honesty. Shiki had broken him. Shiki had left Izaya unable to trust or love another person– at least he thought.

 

The second was Shizuo Heiwajima. That almost hurt more than Shiki. He had realized that he had fallen for that beast only recently, but it was the slow burn of what Izaya called hate that left him dizzy and questioning of his own intentions. He was in love with Shizuo. He was in love with someone that hated him in his entirety, and for the life of him, Izaya couldn’t find out why. He always believed that love took sacrifice, so he wanted to know why Shizuo hated him to at least assess it, and try to find some compromise. But there wasn’t a good reason. Shizuo hated all of him, pure and black and vile. Izaya wasn’t going to  _ change _ himself in order to meet the other’s standards, but they could have talked about it. Shizu-chan was never one for polite discussion, however. And it hurt– of  _ course _ it hurt. But he didn’t have time to sit and dwell on the pain of realizing he was in love with someone that wanted him dead.

 

Ursus had shown up then. Before Izaya was able to fall into his stupor of realization, Ursus had pulled him out of that hole before it settled. He was sweet, and made Izaya feel warm when ever he thought about him. Izaya was so  _ in love _ , which was eons away from loving someone. He loved Shiki. He loved Shizuo. He was  _ in love _ with Ursus. His complete adoration and enamoration consumed him and made him feel like he was  _ everything _ . He could get high on his laughter. He’d grown addicted to Ursus’ smiles. The gentle touches left him craving more. That kiss rocked him to his core and left him begging for another. ss

 

Now that he was here, wrapped protectively in a content silence, he was gonna get it. Izaya willed away his shadows around his mouth and dragged his hands across Ursus’ shoulders to the sides of his face, and pulled him down into a searing kiss. It takes him a second to respond, but the pressure of his slightly chapped lips against Izaya’s caused his knees to buckle beneath him. Ursus catches him and pulls away, looking a little concerned, but Izaya crashes their faces together within the same breath. He feels hot. He’s burning alive with his heart pounding in his chest, but he craves it. Tremors wrack through his body like the heat that’s coursing through his veins. 

 

Again, Ursus parts first. He’s panting, a red blush staining his face and a dorky adorable smile tugging across his face. Izaya pushes himself to his toes and pecks their lips together one last time before leaning back.

 

“We should probably get going,” Izaya purrs, feeling incredibly content with their current situation. 

 

“Can I have one more?” he chokes out, blushing brightly.

 

Izaya thinks about teasing him for what he’s asking for, but the question was so secure and innocent, that Izaya can’t find it in himself. Instead he brings their faces together and lets Ursus take the initiative this time. 

 

He’ll never get used to this. If every kiss is gonna leave him this warm and tingly, he’ll surely die. Ursus is so warm where their chests connect and Izaya can’t help the daydream of waking up in his arms. This is  _ so _ terrible considering that they don’t even really know each other. Their real identities are mysteries that are so deeply hidden, and Izaya is scared. He’s fucking terrified that if Ursus sees him for what he really is, he’ll leave, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that heart break. 

 

“Hey hey! Looks like we got a couple of faggots over here!”

 

The yell comes from some stocky man walking towards them with a menacing stride in his step. At least, it appears that’s what he’s going for. Ursus is immediately bristling in anger, and Izaya takes a step back.

 

“What did you call us?” he growls, fists clenching at his sides as he shakes with his fury.

 

“ _ Fa _ -ggots! Couple of low life fucking homos. Who knew that Ursus and Itzal were fags?”

 

“And with each other at that! Thought that photo was a fake, but it looks like I was wrong.”

 

“What a couple of bitches. If they want dick so bad, maybe we should put ‘em in their place.”

 

They were surrounded now. The fountain in the park is being perched on by a collection of jerks with weapons. Some were guns, some were knives. There were bats, and crow bars, and someone with nunchucks? Izaya couldn’t help but giggle at that. They walk like they’re a force to be reckoned with, and he couldn’t be more amused at their naivety. They walk like that because they believe that their “gang affiliation” makes them protected and scary. However, most of the color gangs in the area are ran by  _ children _ who are on hungry power trips. He should really talk to Masaomi about finishing the work you start, because there’s no reason the  _ Blue Squares _ should be picking fights after their backlash from the Yellow Scarves. But, that’s just an observation on Izaya’s part. Maybe Kida wanted to drag them out– play with them like a cat killing a mouse. In Izaya’s opinion, they’re taking too long, and this meager excuse for a color gang should have been snuffed out with the emergence of the Dollars, but he’s too old to get mixed in with the child’s play of defining metaphorical territorial boundaries over a city better off without them. Human beings are so interesting. They preach and praise their supremacy; however, they are nothing more than monkeys with technology. It’s equally infuriating and interesting.

 

What’s even more interesting about them are the noises they make when Izaya delivers a powerful roundhouse to their gut. Douchebag with the bandana goes down, his pocket knife clattering uselessly beside him as he convulses from the impact. Izaya sends his right foot back into the dude with the nunchucks’ face and he falls backwards onto one of the guys wielding a two by four. There’s a few punches thrown his way, and Izaya learns the lesson first hand that no one  _ really _ wins in a head butt. He clicks his tongue, trying hard to stop the ringing in his ears. Why he thought that was a good idea– no one will know. The notion of slamming his face into someone else's is reiterated as a bad idea when he gets clubbed with a baseball bat and immediately goes down. 

 

There’s a vague awareness of a terrifying growl that rips into the night with almost as much ferocity as Izaya does. There’s the dampness of his bleeding head wound leaking into the pavement and the scent of blood and sweat settling in his nose. Izaya winces– well, the best he can when he’s starting to black out. Then he feels a gentle hand on his face and he begs his shadows to keep him masked in his haze. Izaya can only assume it’s Ursus who picks him up when his hand presses against cool metal from his chest plate. Ursus is holding him bridal style like he’s a fragile, easily broken doll. He hates it. He hates it because he can feel the concern bleed into the way Ursus’ fingers unconsciously tighten around his shoulders, and he can’t help but feel guilty. There’s a faint brush of lips against his forehead before Izaya gives in to his pain. 

  
He can’t help but think he’s gonna be alone when he wakes up. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words can not express how bad I feel for how long this took, and I love all of you still willing to read...

Shit. Shit!  _ Shit! _

 

He just stood there and let Itzal take action against those fuck nuts, and now he was potentially bleeding out in Shizuo’s arms and it was all his fault. 

 

He didn’t exactly know how to deal with this situation. After doing this for a few years, Shizuo was used to Vorona being hurt and bouncing back immediately on the job, but those were just routine cuts and scrapes. Just like her usual day to day life, she very infrequently actually got hurt. Her persona as Helectric was no different. Itzal was  _ never _ hit. He was graceful and powerful yet gentle all in the same motion that stole Shizuo’s breath away as if it was  _ him _ getting punched in the stomach. He was everything Shizuo wanted to be, so when that unnatural beauty was smashed by the brutality of some ignorant homophobic dick bags, he wasn’t sure how to feel or react aside from an outburst that would have painted him in blood. If not for the way Itzal would tease him for being a hypocrite, he would have turned into the monster Izaya swears he is. 

 

Itzal was so light in the bridal style hold he was tied in. Shizuo knew he was bony from the few moments they had embraced, but this was extreme. Hard pointed bones stabbed like broken glass under taught ivory skin– at least white  in the places Shizuo could see it. There are two beautiful scars painted feather light on his skin. It’s intricate and delicate. An irritated pink pattern of thin lines traced a thick outline down his shoulders and down his fingers, fluttering out of sight under his gloves. Up close, the lines between Itzal’s chin and the swallowing darkness of his hood are better defined. His face is soft. His neck, long and fragile just like his pale wrists and glove covered hands. He’s cold in Shizuo’s arms, a block of ice being heated by the gentle trickle of blood from the top of his neck down his hand. It’s cutting through the shadows of his suit like he isn’t wearing anything at all, dripping heavily onto Shizuo’s tights and the concrete beneath them as he runs. 

 

Shizuo isn’t exactly sure how Itzal’s clothing works. He seems to be able to manipulate it like he does those damn spikes, but that doesn’t make it any less confusing. Theoretically, he could change it to anything he wants, and suddenly Shizuo thinks of Celty. She can do a lot of the same things as Itzal, but maybe his just has more  _ body  _ to it. Maybe it’s more physical like paint rather than a musky fog. He’s sure that even if Itzal would explain it to him, he’d still be confused.

 

He’s  _ powerful _ . Shizuo can feel it against Itzal’s skin. There’s strength. There’s numbers. Shizuo thinks that Itzal is never really alone. Holding this body in his hands, it feels like he’s just a shell– like there’s hundreds of inhabitants in this one. It’s almost surreal. Voices call out to him like they’re there, and with him, but trapped inside a box manifesting in the form of this attractive, demented, amazing person slowly bleeding to death in his hands.

 

“Help me.” 

 

Itzal hitches in his hold. Shizuo glances around the city streets he’s currently on. That call sounded so close– almost like it was a whisper right in his ear. Right there, but still so distant that Shizuo is half convinces it’s a hallucination. Itzal curls into his chest again. 

 

“ _Help_ _me_.” 

 

It’s barely increased in volume, but so close much closer now that it’s still loud and tell tale of multiple people chanting. He can’t really be sure as he can only see him and Itzal and the light dribble of blood dusted from the torn skin underneath his gloves. Either way, he breaks off into a sprint. He knows he shouldn’t be running away from someone that could potentially be in danger, but the longer he stands there, the more reactive Itzal gets, and Shizuo can’t help but feel like whatever this is, it’s hurting him some how.

 

Shizuo dismisses the idea of taking him to a real hospital. There would be a compromise of identities, and safety breaches, and Shizuo thinks Itzal would be mad at him for it. So instead of getting actual professional medical help, he goes to the next best thing.

 

His childhood friend, Shinra. 

 

When said doctor opens the door, his face pales immediately.

 

“Shizuo, what happened to Iza-  _ Itzal _ ?!” 

 

He says this as he’s leading Shizuo to his makeshift operating room. Everything is pristinely white and chrome. Aside from the polished wooden floors and overhead ceiling fan, it looks like an actual hospital room. He lays Itzal on the bed, mindful of his injuries, and immediately feels Shinra’s hand clamp over his shoulder. 

 

“You should leave.”

 

Shizuo pulls a face. “I should what? Are you kidding me?”

 

“Shizuo, I know this kinda sucks, but you don’t know his identity yet, do you?”

 

“Well... no,” he mumbles sheepishly.

 

“His suit is starting to literally dissipate off of his skin,” Shinra whisper-yells. 

 

And he is right. Smoke was clouding around Itzal as a bare, ivory hand slid off the bed and clattered to the floor uselessly. His eyes trace back to the delicate pink lines dancing across his skin. Just as Shizuo was getting a good look at the array of other scars just barely in his view on said wrist, Shinra delivers a hard shove to his back and pushes him out of the room.

 

“His identity is gonna be compromised to me as it is, but I need to see what I’m working with so that I can actually  _ work _ on his injuries. I promise I’ll call you as soon as I finish, but you really shouldn’t be here when he wakes up,” Shinra adds with a sense of finality. “Please, Shizuo, I know you wanna be here for him, but you don’t know how he’s gonna react. What if he doesn’t want you to know yet?”

 

“Yeah,” Shizuo sighs, “I get it. I’m not happy about it, but I get it. It’s horse shit, but it’s an invasion of personal privacy, and despite how I think he’s gonna react, it’s not my place to make that decision for him. I get it.”

 

He brushes past a confused and tired Celty in the hallway. 

 

“I need a smoke. Call me first thing after he gets up.” 

 

Shizuo leaves after that. He barely makes it down the stairs before he lights his much needed cigarette. Itzal hates it when he smokes, but right now the borderline painful burn of the nicotine flowing down his throat is more calming than he would like to admit. No doubt about it, he’s angry, but he definitely sees where Shinra is coming from. If he were in the same situation, he hopes Shinra would be sensible enough to remove Itzal from the room before he started removing spandex. 

 

He prays that Itzal isn’t mad at him for this. He needed medical attention that Shizuo is in no position to give, so he took him to Shinra. A doctor, who’s used to these kind of oddities in his girlfriend and the other people he so intrusively surrounds himself with. Shizuo has super strength and can turn into a  _ bear _ for that matter. Izaya is... well...  _ Izaya _ . The people in Shinra’s life are all  _ wrong _ for lack of a better word. There’s something off– something that goes without mentioning that this collection of individuals is different from the socially accepted norm.

 

The butt of his cigarette nearly meets the filter and burns his hand. Shizuo drops it, snuffing the flame out with his foot and immediately lighting another. He can’t help it. 

 

Similar to how maybe Shinra can’t help but attract these things, he’s got a type. That type is demented, demonic, and misunderstood. Those types of people flock to Shinra, and as long as Shizuo had known him, he knew that there was nothing he could do to drive Shinra away. When he was in the hospital for the Pudding Incident with Kasuka, Shinra visited nearly every day after school to check on him and ask how he was doing. Even when he attacked those guys hassling that nice milk lady, Shinra didn’t laugh when Shizuo told him how it went down. He didn’t call him a liar. He didn’t ask Kasuka. He nodded in understanding and asked Shizuo if he could see.

 

***

 

“You did what?”

 

Shinra looks a little pensive across the table. His chubby fingers are laced together around a glass of untouched milk. Kasuka looks as blank faced as always, and Shizuo looks like his heart is gonna fall out of his mouth. 

 

“I turned into a bear. At least that’s what Kasuka says– I don’t know. I... I don’t remember anything except for the aftermath,” he sniffs, tears of shame threatening to spill down his cheeks. 

 

Shinra traces his eyes toward Kasuka, who meets his gaze head on. 

 

All three of them are too young to understand the severity of the situation– too naive to fully comprehend how odd it is. But they all understand that this changes nothing between them. Kasuka still loves his older brother. Shinra still wants to be Shizuo’s friend. Shizuo has just found another source of self loathing to hold onto when he’s too young to know what to do with it. Nothing has changed. Everything stays. It stays the same and at that table, all three of them stay silent. 

 

Years later, when Shinra visits Shizuo during the summer in middle school, he says Shizuo is a lot like a superhero some guy named “Izaya” from his new school told him about. Shizuo was never one for comics. 

 

Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk. Shinra thought he was a lot like Shizuo, and highly encouraged him to go read some of the Hulk’s comics. He didn’t really want to– he was already getting picked on enough, and him being a nerd was only gonna make it worse, but Shinra was insistent, and Shizuo didn’t feel like arguing. 

 

He started at the beginning, like anyone should when reading a story. Bruce Banner was the son of an atomic physicist father who hated him and a loving stay at home mother. She died when he was young– murdered by his alcoholic father. He... never had a lot of friends in school and was constantly getting bullied, putting him at the receiving end of a lot of physical assault. Banner actually tried to blow up his school, which gave him the opportunity to become a nuclear physicist. He gave himself up for his friend and ended up getting infected with some type of radiation or something– that whole part went over Shizuo’s head. Anyway, after the blast, this guy, this  _ normal _ guy, was turned into a freak. He became a monster when he got into stressful situations, but he was a nice guy. Bruce was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a beast in disguise of a man, and yet he had friends and loved ones who thought of him as more than just the Hulk. He was Bruce. Their friend or lover or family- either way, Shizuo was a bit more appreciative of Shinra and Kasuka, and if Bruce Banner could keep people close to him even if he could end up destroying them, then so could Shizuo.

 

He spent the rest of the summer reading his comics and watching the Hulk movies. He became more interested in comics as a whole, and even remembers sheepishly asking his few friends to see The Avengers with him. His parents didn't ask, and Kasuka was happy to see his brother direct that severe amount of passion into something. Later in his adult years, Shizuo would still get excited about hero movies. He would favor Mark Ruffalo's portrayal best. And he would get mad about Tony building a machine with the sole purpose of beating the Hulk, just like everyone else.

 

But that doesn't matter right now. He is not Bruce Banner, and Liv Tyler isn't waiting at home for him. No, he's just some punk who took up spandex as a form of emotional release, and the closest thing he's got to Betty Ross is the physical form of children's nightmares with a pretty voice and a terrible sense of humor. 

 

Itzal was back there right now with his costume literally bleeding off his unconscious body. It enveloped him in a cloud of black like a cocoon he had built to protect himself. Shizuo could have sworn he heard hissing when Itzal's arm had dropped off the side of the bed. Whatever was going on, Shizuo couldn't help but feel like he was abandoning him at the hands of Shinra, and that mental image didn't sit well with him in the slightest. What was maybe the weirdest part was the way Shinra seemed to  _ already know  _ Itzal, and not in the way you know a local celebrity, but really  _ know  _ him. And maybe he did. Shinra had tons of connections, and adding Izaya's outreach probably put Shinra at the top of the mafia's go to list of doctors with a tight lip. For all Shizuo knew, Shinra could have done whatever happened to Itzal to give him his powers. God he hoped that wasn't it. He can't even begin to imagine the wrath he just evoked if that was the case, but Shinra doesn't seem like the type to do something that horrible. And now Shizuo wants a back story. His story is kinda lame. One day he got mad and learned he could pick up kitchen appliances at a young age. A few years later, he turned into a bear. A little after that, with an unhealthy idolization of the Hulk, Shizuo took a dear friend's advice to suit up and go save people, at least the best he could with his strength. But hey, a broken rib is better than dying right?

 

Shizuo doesn’t know why Itzal did it. Maybe it’s a similar set of circumstances, or maybe he’s just some nut job with demon powers. What the hell even are his powers? Shadow manipulation? It reminds him of Celty, but in a scarier way. He doesn’t think that Celty would ever be capable of doing something like  _ murder _ – in Itzal’s defense he was getting better! He hadn’t killed anyone in at least a few months, but Shizuo needed to keep in mind that Itzal was dismembering people and honestly thinking it was okay. Maybe okay wasn’t the right word. It was more like, morally obligatory in the face of specific circumstances. However he was making an effort to change that view. He knew it wasn’t okay. He just didn’t feel any remorse for it. 

 

Which, on an undecided, completely metaphorical understanding of it, was a pseudo way of saying Itzal was okay with it, which was bad. It was bad. But it could be worse! He could be like... eating children or something. But he isn’t. At least, Shizuo hopes he isn’t. All he knows is that he isn’t happy with the way he feels about this. He’s never had this much cognitive dissonance before, and it wasn’t doing anything but exacerbating his anger. 

 

But Itzal has a habit of doing that. He jumbles Shizuo’s feelings and thoughts until there’s nothing but him and his laugh and his sarcastic remarks. He’s a lot like Izaya, Shizuo thinks. Oh no, he is a  _ lot _ like Izaya.

 

Maybe they know each other. Oh God what if this is all an elaborate ruse? What if Itzal was hired by Izaya to convince Shizuo to fall in love with him? What, no that’s preposterous. There’s no way that Izaya would even know that Ursus and Shizuo are the same person. 

 

On the other hand, he did describe, in great detail once in the company of Shinra, that he absolutely despised Ursus, so this could be an amazingly air tight prank. If that was really the case, Shizuo hates to admit that he’d actually be equally impressed as he would be angry. But all of this seems like an incredible amount of work just to break someone’s heart. Shinra said that if Izaya isn’t sure he can reach his goal in a timely fashion, then he wouldn’t pursue it- unless, of course, it was his goal in killing Shizuo.

 

Maybe he did know.

 

No. There’s no way- at least it’s highly improbable.

 

But Izaya has been aware of other highly specific things about Shizuo that he really should have no business knowing, such as the reason Shizuo drinks so much milk, or that he’s allergic to penicillin. Like seriously? Why would he need to know that? It’s not even a severe allergy, more like hives.

  
Either way, it didn’t matter. If this was similar to “ _ My Best Friend’s Girl, _ ” then Shizuo will manage. Tank still got Alexis when the credits rolled, and he can only hope he’s convinced Itzal to love him as much as he loves Itzal. Izaya be damned.


	13. Chapter 13

There's a difference between a desire and an expectation. Izaya desires to be left alone when he returns home with head trauma, but he expects work. His desires have never been of much importance to Shiki. There's a sordid look on Haruya's face, and a pensive gesture in the way Izaya deliberately ignores his eye. 

 

“If I would have known you were going to ignore the assignment, I wouldn't have commissioned you for the information, Izaya-san.”

 

The formalities don't sit well with Izaya, and he can't help the way his skin crawls when he thinks of the  _ other  _ people that had suddenly been given an honorific. Regardless, Izaya's smile tugs just a bit harder at his face. 

 

He apologizes again, of course. What else is one supposed to do in this situation? He says he's sorry, and it feels like a lie that covers the room, but that's because it is a lie. He could honestly not care any less about Shiki's dissatisfaction.

 

“Akabayashi saw you and Heiwajima on your-"

 

“Date.” Izaya finishes, and he instantly hatches a brilliant plan.

 

“Your… date?” Shiki asks, confused disgust evident in his face and voice.

 

It feels good for Izaya to make the other man's façade break, even if for a fraction of a second. Shizuo's expense be damned. If the mafia thinks they have reconciled and then they'll think they're in cahoots. Izaya's prepared to bring a whole new meaning to the term love thy enemy.

 

“Yes,” he coos, “A date. Shizu-chan and I have decided to direct our blinding passion into something other than fighting. He's so sweet when you really get to know him- I'm honestly kicking myself for not realizing it sooner. He's so…”

 

A toxic grin carves across Izaya's entire being.

 

“Easy to love.”

 

Izaya can almost hear the agitation erupt in Shiki and it feels  _ fantastic _ . 

 

“In fact, in light of our most recent relationship development, I've decided to take a short holiday to truly devote my efforts in working on us. So, I’ll have to suspend this assignment.”

 

Knuckles crack on Shiki’s end of the room.

 

“You will be taking a serious pay cut for this.”

 

“I have given you what I found within the parameters of ‘keeping my distance’ from the serial killer.”

 

“Then invade,” Shiki hisses.

 

Izaya’s anger boils over, and for a split second he snaps, pounding his fist into the glass of his desk. 

 

“My  _ life _ ,” Izaya growls, “is not worth your petty revenge scheme.” 

 

The glass beneath his knuckles cracks. It’s a hairline fracture that carves its way up to the edges of each of his desks and shoots glass into his hand. He hears a hiss, violent and guttural as his blood seeps into the cracks like paint dripping into a gorge. He knows the hiss isn’t his own. 

 

He also knows he’s gonna need stitches.

 

Izaya can feel many things wrong at the same. For starters, there’s a hand wrapping around his wrist. He can see it– black and smoky as it closes in on his scars, and his skin, and his blood. It’s holding him there, and keeping him from lashing out any further. He’s thankful for it. A grounding force more powerful than Shizuo could ever hope to be, or ever will be. 

 

Izaya takes a breath that’s almost as violent as his outburst. He grits his teeth at Shiki, who looks a little more distant than Izaya remembers, and drags a smile to his face as he removes his hand from the glass pile on his desk. Darkness is swallowing his vision to the point of suffocating. Everything is dark– aside from the white light surrounding Shiki. There are also hands wrapping their way up his legs, and Izaya knows it’s him, but he can’t possibly bring himself to care about what blood these hands will spill. 

 

Izaya closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When he opens them again, he’s back in his apartment with his bloody fist pulled tightly against his chest and Shiki shooting out of the chair in front of his broken desk. 

 

Izaya eyes him warily. “I will inform you when I return to my office. In the meantime, it would be best if you ignored me for quite a while.”

 

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves, but he doesn’t need to. Izaya can tell that he’s scared, but he doesn’t know what of. Maybe he’s realizing how unsafe Izaya is. Or maybe he saw the woman with long black hair standing at the top of the staircase. 

 

She’s twitching, and dripping wet as she stands there. One of her hands remains out stretched, until it’s not, and Izaya feels like he’s being let go of something that he can’t name. This woman... she concerns him, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it as she snaps her neck back and  _ screams _ something loud and awful that completely shatters his desk, and sends everything on top crashing to the floor. When she stops, she’s gone. 

 

There’s a calm sense of familiarity found in her that Izaya begins to miss as soon as she’s gone. He can’t seem to find fear in her, regardless of her malevolent appearance and brash behaviors. She’s alluring, and just like that, Izaya feels like he’s losing his mind. He ignores the shattered glass and the blood leaking onto the floor, and removes his phone from his pocket. He texts Shizuo first– deciding that he needs to feel that calming presence before he leaves to go be with Ursus. He’s worried he might snap, and as much as he doesn’t inherently enjoy murder, it is a  _ more effective _ method of dealing with anyone who might try to fight them. 

 

He just... doesn’t want to let anyone down, especially if that person is Ursus. And thus, Izaya texts Shizuo and asks if he would like to go for an early dinner when he gets off in a few minutes. The response doesn’t come for a while, but when it does, it’s a nervous sounding “sure.”

 

Izaya takes the steps two at a time to grab his wallet and get out of this suffocating apartment. He doesn’t take even a second to ponder the puddle at the top of the stairs.  He feels sick and dizzy in every single fiber of his being– almost like he’s drowning in the confines of his own home. He craves that sweet stability that comes from being docile with Shizuo. Izaya was so relaxed at that restaurant with Shizuo that he almost debates setting up a weekly dinners. It’s all he can do to stay sane. He’s hurting, and is extensively overwhelmed through just living his day to day life to the point where Izaya can feel the break down creeping up on him like that woman.

 

And maybe that’s who she is. She is his breakdown, whispering her fingers and shallow breaths across his shoulder blades in the middle of the night. The one who presses his knife into his wrist on especially bad days, and now he has a face for the feeling. Izaya’s breathing goes shaky for a minute as he leaves. 

 

The walk to Russia Sushi is unassuming. There’s people everywhere, but Izaya can’t find it in him to be interested. He feels empty and so tired that he is physically aching from the mental strain of simply existing in his life. He hurts. Izaya tucks his hands in his jacket pockets and strides with a latent slouch in his step. He needs to take a step back and really breathe. Shinra and Celty said they would be there for him whenever he needs him, and Izaya is starting to realize that there’s a reason Shizuo prefers Celty. Celty is understanding almost to a fault– at least in Izaya’s perspective. She’s quiet, but more so because she can’t talk rather than actually wanting to listen. Izaya is happy to have her, regardless. He cracks his knuckles into fists as he shoves them in his jacket. 

 

Russia Sushi should be a safe place, shouldn’t it? Surely Simon would see them willingly going together and not let it slip that Izaya is Itzal.

 

Or a big fat fucking hypocrite. 

 

He ponders all those years he spent calling Shizuo a monster and wishing death on him. There was no need for it. It was a waste of energy Izaya would have gladly used elsewhere. He wasted so much time on obsessing over this figment of his own insecurities. He blamed Shizuo for what was wrong with him, and thus they ended up fighting, and fighting, and fighting, and now that they aren’t– Izaya is kicking himself for being so ignorant. 

 

He and Shizuo could have had this all along. They could have had this content and peaceful happy coexistence. They fought. They fought so much, and it was so much wasted on both of their parts. Izaya is filled with regret. It’s an aching sadness that reverberates through his body with such a disgusting weight. It tugs at his body until his vision wells with tears, and he leans against a wall in the alley and takes another shaky breath. His tears are hot as they run down his face. He hiccups for a second in the white noise of the city. It’d be nice if the rain started falling, and the air around him was as heavy with regret as Izaya was, but he isn’t so lucky. The sun is shining brilliant shades of orange across the cloudless sky, and it’s killing him. 

 

He feels so bad and the radiant sunsets are so mocking to his sadness, but this isn’t some story, and there’s no cliched rainfall to match the main character’s pain. This is real life with real existential depression and real unrequited love. It’s not like Shizuo is just gonna swing around that alley and come save him from his sadn–

 

“Izaya, is that you?”

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbled breathlessly while attempting to compose himself. 

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“Ha. No.” Izaya flinches at his honesty. “I’m fine.”

 

That’s better– gotta cover that shit up with a lie. 

 

“What are you doing here?” There’s a concern in Shizuo’s voice that rots on Izaya’s ears. 

 

He can’t take sympathy or pity. It is a serious character flaw in his mind, but he can’t help it. He feels like it’s a sign of weakness to allow others in, and while Izaya rationalizes that that is a completely ludicrous notion, he physically can not comfortably let anyone in.

 

“Hey flea,” Shizuo strides next to him and places a hand delicately between Izaya’s shoulder blades. “You’re obviously not okay– just tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Izaya doesn’t answer. He just takes another shaky breath knowing all too well that Shizuo can feel the tension shake through him and reverberate off of himself. The worst part about it is that Shizuo– sweet, absent-minded Shizuo– did what most people do when they are concerned about their friend. They pull their crying friend into a hug. Izaya’s face presses against Shizuo’s chest and strong arms wrap around him. His breathing stutters, and he wants nothing more than to allow himself to be held. Izaya’s earth stutters to a halt. His heart pounds out of his chest like a bass drum violently pounding against the confines of his ribs. With their inherent proximity, Izaya digs his nose into Shizuo’s shirt and waits for the redness in his face to die down.

 

It always feels good after a break down– similar to the beauty after a forest fire. There is a sense of a fresh start, when there’s nothing left but ash-fertile soil and the sorrowful return of animals. In Izaya’s metaphor, his sense of shame is the deer mother returning to her destroyed home. 

 

Nothing is said between them for a few moments while Izaya takes in the smells of Shizuo’s chest. He feels safe and protected from all of the horrible, sad, awful shit going on in his life. Right now, this time is his, and he is content to cry into Shizuo’s chest if that’s what it takes to make him feel better. Even if for only a second. 

 

Shizuo sighs into Izaya’s hair. “I’m not gonna pry, but if we really are doing this whole  _ friends _ thing, then you should know you can come to me with your problems like this.”

 

Izaya chooses not to respond to the “like this” part of Shizuo’s declaration. He also chooses to pointedly ignore the happy warmth that spreads through him.

 

When he finally forces his face out of Shizuo’s collarbone, he knows his face isn’t red anymore. His eyelashes still feel a little heavy with moisture, but he isn’t crying anymore. Izaya can see the outline of the moon hanging up in the sky and decides that maybe everything isn’t so bad. Shizuo takes a sharp inhale, and Izaya almost flinches at the sudden sound. He looks like he's had the wind knocked out of him, and from the blush and the way he's avoiding eye contact, Izaya thinks it has something to do with him. Shizuo's just being weird, but there's nothing unusual about that. 

 

Izaya already feels a little better. He hasn’t been with Shizuo that long, and he can already feel his presence radiate a safety Izaya can’t help but crave.

 

“Dinner, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks, a playful lilt purring in his voice at the suffix. 

 

‘Shizuo’ still feels a little weird on his tongue, and he’s glad that the other makes no effort to correct him. Shizuo wraps his arm around Izaya’s shoulders and tugs him into his chest again. However, this time their foreheads press together, and Shizuo shoots Izaya a grin that is so full of hope and trust in the world that Izaya can’t help but smile back. They walk like that for a while, Shizuo’s arm wrapped around Izaya’s shoulder in the same way the romantic couples around them walk.

  
Shizuo is smiling up ahead while he talks to Izaya about work. Izaya attempts to smother the guilt he feels for falling back in love with Shizuo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about how long this took haha sorry....   
> Anyway this will be the last of three chapters in this arc. There's this one, and "End of All Things" Pt. 1 and Pt. 2. It's all planned out and im really happy with it. I already have the end of pt. 2 written and sitting at the bottom of the document!!   
> Thank you for all of your support. It really means a lot to me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE LITERALLY HAD THIS CHAPTER DONE SINCE THE 14TH AND I AM SO SORRY.  
> ANYWAY HERE IT IS!! PART ONE OF END OF ALL THINGS IS NOW OUT AND PART TWO WILL BE THE END OF THIS ARC. 
> 
> LET'S GO FUCKERS.

Helectric has a hand pressed against her hip when Izaya arrives. He was running a little bit later than usual. After his dinner with Shizuo, Izaya ended up taking a nap when returning home. He woke up about an hour and a half  _ after _ he would normally leave. She rolls her eyes underneath her mask before she starts berating his punctuality– or lack thereof. Izaya doesn’t entertain her. Ursus glances at him expectantly, and Izaya feels bad that he doesn’t want to kiss him like he does every other night. Izaya lets Ursus kiss his cheek though, and Izaya reaches out to hold his hand. 

 

“As I was saying,” Helectric snaps, “There’s rumors of a terrorist attack in Chiyoda.”

 

“You said that already,” Ursus says, staring at Izaya like a kicked puppy.

 

“There’s also a fire currently burning in the Seika Dormitory,” she states flatly.

 

Ursus perks up at that. “Why didn’t you start off with that?! How long has it been burning? Is there anyone there?!”

 

“It started recently. I just heard about about it on the police radio.”

 

“So it’s already abandoned,” Izaya replies. “I can put the fire out– no problem. You two go investigate Chiyoda, and I’ll catch up with you.”

 

“Will do,” Helectric nods, and takes off towards the park. 

 

Electricity crackles in the air around Izaya and Ursus. Izaya feels sick, if he’s being honest. He feels like he’s cheating despite doing anything romantic or sexual with Shizuo. He would never act on these feelings– of course not– not when Ursus is  _ right here _ looking sad and concerned and  _ still _ amazingly attractive. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Izaya kisses him instead of picking a definitive answer. He isn’t okay. He’s in love with another man, and he’s just hoping that that fades and can remain just as repressed as it did when he was in high school. Izaya kisses him again and again and he feels his heart swell to the point of bursting in his chest. Shizuo can’t make him this breathless. Shizuo will never get the chance to make him this breathless. Ursus delivers one slow and careful kiss to Izaya and then pulls his face away. He presses their foreheads together gently and smiles tightly before just kissing Izaya’s forehead the best he can with his suit in the way.

 

“You better get going,” Ursus sighs. “See you later?”

 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Izaya answers, and he feels like he’s heading into army deployment rather than a few minutes away, but the two of them separate and head in their separate directions.

 

Above the buildings, Izaya can see the tell-tale black smoke of the fire billowing into the sky. The building has been burned down before, yet it still groans as it crumbles in a blur of orange and black. The air smells like summer campfires hissing in the night, entirely foreign aside from a misplaced, nostalgic familiarity.  Smoke cuts into the edge of the city lights illuminating the sky above him. 

 

He likes fire, Izaya decides. It feels cleansing after all the ash is wiped away, and even now he likes watching the bright crimson glow eat away at the structure around him. He focuses on that almost false sounding crackling and splitting of the wood giving way and splintering under the weight of the fire eating into its edges. There’s tearing in what was left of the paper walls catching and roasting into ash.

 

It should be desolate. It should be nothing more than an isolated building in the middle of an abandoned courtyard. However, nothing ever seems to work in Izaya’s favor. He’s about to snuff out the flames, to pull the oxygen entirely from the area in one blow, but there’s a scream inside of the hazard. One, then another, then another, and suddenly a window is tossed open carelessly on the third floor. Smoke billows out of the window like birds into the sky and suddenly a body comes toppling out. Izaya catches him before he crashes, of course, but he isn’t expecting to see the blue square gang member coughing his lungs out. There are more people in there, and Izaya really does not want to catch on fire again. He’s going to. He’s  _ begrudgingly  _ going to. Izaya enters through the pushed open window figuring that, as most color gang members are, he wouldn’t be alone. 

 

He was not.

 

He never thought that he’d ever see the Blue Squares working with the Yellow Scarves, but yet here they were. Four run-of-the-mill delinquents all flailing around like chickens with their heads cut off until they saw Izaya. Unsurprisingly, most were crying. Gang members tended to be like that. They all preach about their bravery and loyalty to their gang come hell or high water, but the second danger comes sniffing around the corner, they all cower together like a green mass. That isn’t including the Dollars– of course. They don’t have any color, but the three of them mesh into a green haze when they fight. 

 

Izaya couldn’t be bothered, but the sooner he puts out this fire, the sooner he can interrogate, find out what happened, and return to Ursus. Izaya carries them all out of the window and drops them onto the ground. Most of them sit there and suffer in their own stew of fear and shame. A few run into the darkness of the campus, but if Mulan taught him anything, it only takes one man to send a message. 

 

Izaya continues sweeping through the corridors. The roof had long caved in, and Izaya is starting to get the sinking suspicion that these people were poured in here after the fire had ravaged the worst. There is no real damage. There’s just a glaring suspicion that Izaya feels like he’s being cornered, even as he continues to drop people out of the building like rain. He floats down to the second floor, and feels like he’s being watched. Maybe it’s the pleading eyes that trace his every move as he telekinetically saves lives, but there’s a sinister sense of danger in the air. He chalks it up to the fire heating his skin and making his shadows hiss into the smoke in a black haze. He’s not hurt, but he can feel the flames curl against the cold barrier on his skin. It reminds him of Shizuo. He feels warm and protected by the fire because it feels like he’s being held against Shizuo’s chest again. No one can penetrate a firewall in the same way that no one can break Shizuo’s hold on something he really wanted to get his hands on. 

 

He shouldn’t feel this safe in a burning building. He’s actually slowing down. Someone could be dead right now, and he wouldn’t know because he’s being gay. Making it down to the first floor, Izaya is happy to find that he managed to evacuate the building, and takes a breath before filling every inch of the building with his presence. His shadows dive into the corners and snuff every inch of oxygen from the space he’s occupying. Everything sits in a silence so heavy it puffs out the cracking of the fire on the wood, and steam hisses into nothing. Izaya pulls back a bit and assesses the space around him. To be honest, it doesn’t look that different than it did when the fire burned down before– maybe a little more distressed. The structure looks sound enough, but Izaya figures that’s not his area of expertise and decides that it would be better to let campus security check it out in the morning. Someone must have informed authorities of the fire by now. 

 

Izaya flies back out through the window on the third floor and lands gracefully before the pile of gang members trying to scrape together what’s left of their dignity. It’s funny, in a sense. Ikebukuro’s most feared are huddled at Izaya’s feet in a violent pile of shame. Izaya wants to poke them– to see if they will shift and puff like an injured animal– but he doesn’t. Instead, Izaya picks one up with a graceful purr of indifference. He’s hovering in front of Izaya now, sniffling ugly sobs out of an unscarred, young face. 

 

“State your purpose,” Izaya declares with a delicate yet firm demand.

 

“We were led in here! W-we were told that there was a meeting for our gangs inside b-but the doors got locked and then the fire started and we–” he breaks off into a wail and Izaya drops him. 

 

He doesn’t have time for this, but the fire is out, so he’ll have to worry about that later. He hasn’t heard anything from either of them. No news is good news, but their silence is a bit alarming. 

 

“That’s who shut the door!” is barked from the gaggle of shitheads, and Izaya turns into the direction a shaking finger is pointed. 

 

Akabayashi is standing there with a cigarette hanging limply in his mouth and his hands tucking into the pockets of his suit pants. Izaya’s taken back a little after that. He’s standing there staring at Izaya with a sneer that’s only touching his eyes. His face is flat except for the joy in his eyes. Even his posture is slacked into boredom. 

 

“Hey, informant,” he purrs, and Izaya feels as though the wind is knocked out of him. “Been wondering how long it was gonna be before I got to see you like this.” 

 

He laughs then. Izaya can feel his entire being spin into sickness. He feels like he’s going to throw up, like he’s been caught in a lie that he can’t manage to talk himself out of. 

 

“Don’t seem so surprised, Orihara-san. Did you think that we hadn’t known the whole time it was you? Shiki sent you after your little  _ boyfriend _ hoping that you two would fight it out and die,” he spits. “But I guess you know all about what happened.” 

 

He laughs again, and Izaya struggles to come up with something–  _ anything _ to say. He was tricked. He’d been tricked since the beginning, when Shiki sat in his office and asked for his help, it was all just some trick to get him killed. It hurts enough on its own. 

 

It hurts even more to know that Izaya almost fell back in love with him, and Shiki tried for it. He tried to get Izaya’s heart back, and now he knows that would only serve to hurt him more. Or at least reduce suspicion. 

 

A fist adorned in metal rings connects with his cheekbone hard enough to throw him reeling backwards. Shoulders meet with the ground as a kick lands hard into his ribs. Something breaks. Izaya can hear the shatter of bone grinding against bone before it gives under the pressure of Akabayashi’s foot smashing into Izaya’s abdomen. Izaya’s sensible enough to roll into himself to avoid the next kick aimed at his temple. 

 

Izaya uses the shadow of Akabayashi towering over him to vanish into darkness. The hands, ever present in the inky darkness, grab at him before launching him back into the real world and aimed at Akabayashi’s back. He goes for it, fist in front of him like an arrowhead, and lunges. Aiming for the shoulder blades, the air hisses past his ears, and Akabayashi turns at the last second and–

 

He’s caught.

 

Izaya’s caught and slammed into the pavement by his arm in the death grip of Akabayashi clawing at his wrist. Air is forced from his lungs in in a painful gasp. The muscles in his chest contract on nothing but each other as they force themselves to open beyond the confines of his broken ribs. Izaya feels the shattering force of earth smack into him again and again on either side till the tendons in his wrist tear and his arm is rendered useless as the bone crushes to dust behind his skin.  

 

Izaya chokes out a sob in his misery. He’s never been this hurt before, and he can’t begin to imagine it being any worse that this all encompassing silence of every nerve in his body.

 

“I figured if you could last in a fight with Heiwajima-san, it wouldn’t be this easy,” Akabayashi purrs as he clicks the safety off the glock in his suit jacket. “But this is just disappointing. I expected so much more of you, yet here you are– crumpled on the ground like the child you are.” 

 

Izaya feels the gun barrel press against his temple, and finally finds the energy to react. He uses his good arm, and what’s left of the strength in his bad one to swing into a harsh kick against Akabayashi’s temple. It hurts like hell– the screaming yet dull ache of a broken bone and ribs pulled on by torn muscle. He’s surprised he can even move at all, but he’s glad he has the ability. Izaya collapses back onto his knees and allows his broken arm to hang loosely at his side. His breath puffs hot and heavy across his collarbone as he drops his head down. The sharp tang of metal claws its way up his throat and out of his mouth in a violent coughing fit. 

 

His shadows flow black around the blood splatter on the concrete. His suit is still holding up fairly nicely. The cloak is a bit shorter than normal, but he’ll live.

 

Maybe.

 

Akabayashi is starting to come to on the other side of the dorm building’s entryway. Izaya drags together what’s left of his strength to swing hard his with a rounded pike from under his chin. There’s another sickening cracking sound– this one  _ not _ coming from Izaya for once. Akabayashi falls onto the concrete with a lifeless thud. 

 

Izaya approaches cautiously. His ribs are begging for mercy, and his arm is so broken at this point, he’s sure that Shinra’s gonna have to amputate. He’s breathing– Akabayashi. It’s quiet in the dead of night, but his chest moves up and down slowly with every silent gasp. Izaya uses his powers to lift him. He feels almost revitalized by the victory he’s feeling, and once again, Ursus fills his thoughts.

 

He’s not going to kill him, and Ursus would be proud. Izaya carries him back into the building and creates a rope to fall into his hand. He ties Akabayashi to the main support beam, and goes to take his leave. 

 

“Doesn’t matter if you leave now.”

 

Akabayashi is glaring at him now– barely conscious and bleeding from the side of his head. 

 

“Varona has been working with us since the beginning. Helectric’s probably already killed your little boyfriend by now. My job was just to keep you busy while she’s finishing him off.”

 

He’s trying to rile Izaya up, but Izaya’s not Shizuo, and Ursus would be disappointed.

 

“If you want to die,” Izaya states flatly, “There’s a few tall buildings in the area that you might want to look into. 

 

He feels good as he leaves Akabayashi there. He’s there and breathing and screaming for Izaya to stop being a coward and come finish the job. Izaya doesn’t mind. He’s not a coward anymore. A coward would just kill him and be done with it. A coward would take themselves to the hospital and just believe that their loved one is dead. A coward would go back and pulverize that piece of shit like the waste of space he was. 

 

But Izaya can’t deal with that disappointed look in Ursus’ eyes like a parent scolding their child. He hopes that Akabayashi is wrong. He hopes that Varona has been overwhelmed by Ursus, and that Ursus is there waiting for Izaya. 

 

He hopes he gets to see that gentle smile again.

  
He hopes that Ursus has a pulse when he gets there.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it my dudes. I’m really sorry I waited so long to give this to you, but here we are! Freshly beta’d and ready for the close of this arc. I’ll probably add a chapter just to inform you all when the third arc is officially released, so be on the lookout for that lol. Anyway, this has been a wild ride wow.. The longest fanfic I’ve ever written is a hannibal fanfic I wrote back in like... freshman year that had eight chapters and was mainly just weird middle school porn. I’m so glad you all took this journey with me and my beta’s. The first chapter of this fic was posted back in February of this year, and now here we are, nine months later and it’s finally complete. This really is my baby. Anyway, enjoy the last chapter of “Everything Stays.” I’m looking forward to “Love Like You”– the final instalment of The Night Watch Series. See you soon! ^3^

 

It’s easy to tell where Ursus is. There’s a gigantic hole in the side of one specific warehouse in the forest of buildings below him, and electricity stings the air like the crack of a whip. Izaya is hurt. His arm is broken. His ribs are broken. His breathing is labored. Everything is dull and screaming at the same time, like he’s drowning in a black abyss of gasoline while the fire lights at the edges and burns him. 

 

Dust is settling after a dent is made in the steel of the warehouse’s walls across the way. Helectric shoots out a bright white bolt and Izaya can vaguely make out Ursus rolling out of its wake. The static hisses loudly around the tin of the buildings in such a menacing way that Izaya knows he isn’t getting out of this unscathed. 

 

Maybe that explains his reckless actions. 

 

Izaya dives in between the two buildings and lands just out of her line of sight. Ursus coughs a few times and makes an attempt to stand. Helectric uses her powers to throw a piece of machinery and Izaya reaches out to stop it with his powers, but he isn’t fast enough. He watches helplessly as it crashes into the side of Ursus’ head. Blood splatters out like stars across the concrete floor of a night sky. He collapses lifelessly, and for a second Izaya is terrified at the prospect. Immediately, he feels like he’s gonna barf. 

 

He dives at that point, and delivers a hard round house kick to the side of Varona’s temple. It shocks him. The electricity radiating around her wraps around Izaya’s foot and claws its way up his leg. Izaya gets thrown away from her with a force hard enough pool blood in his mouth. Copper bites hard at his tongue while he tries to stop the burning in his foot. 

 

“Didn’t get enough from Akabayashi?” she purrs, with so much snark that Izaya wants to punch her in the face. “Never thought you were one to hit a girl.”

 

She rubs her jaw uncomfortably.

 

“You hit me pretty hard. Didn’t you, lover boy?”

 

Izaya doesn’t answer for a minute. He’s a little too busy assessing his surroundings and means of attack. He can’t touch her– not without starting another small fire on his feet. 

 

“I didn’t hit a girl. I hit a criminal.”

 

He just needs to keep her talking. 

 

He thinks back to all of the things that he learned in physics– many laws of which are being broken right now– but he remembers that water is bad, metal is conductive, and Ursus is in a lot of danger. 

 

“You think you’re so perfect– the second you showed up, he never stopped talking about you. Even out of our suits, you took every waking thought and injected yourself into every fiber of his being.” 

 

There isn’t any chance for rain, Izaya thinks. He’s gonna have to get creative. Considering that his spikes jet from his person, he doesn’t want to take any chances of the electricity to catch and engulf him again. Chances are, he won’t be able to take another hit like that, and he’s already pushing it the way he is now.

 

“ _ I _ was supposed to fight him.”

 

The roof shakes with Varona’s fury and a stupidly dangerous idea hits Izaya harder than she hit him. 

 

“ _ I  _ was supposed to win.”

 

He scrapes together what’s left of his strength to start popping the bolts supporting the ceiling. If he manages to claw his way to Ursus, then he can take them both away from this before the roof collapses– at least long enough to wake him up. Ursus still isn’t moving aside from the gentle push of his shallow breath sweeping against the concrete, but Izaya isn’t exactly in a position to be analyzing his health or his own. 

 

“But you got in the way. You thought he was all yours, but you were wrong,  _ Izaya _ ,” she spits like his name is acid in her mouth. “You’re nothing more than some coward informant overstepping your bounds, and now I’m gonna do what Shiki should have done in the first place.”

 

Her hands lift above her head and the crack of static roars so loud in Izaya’s ears, he’s getting flashbacks to when he got struck by lightning. It feels so long ago– decades in the past– when he was still hated and was condemned to live and die alone. Now here he is. He’s risking his life to protect someone he loves and who loves him back. He has friends that would miss him. He has people there to help him fight his demons, and people that would mourn him if he lost his battle. He can’t give in here. No matter how much he hurts or how much he wants to stop, he has to fight. 

 

Izaya stands so quickly that Varona is thrown a little back from her position hovering in the middle of the room. Her concentration falters, even if only for a second while she’s drawing in her power to attack. Izaya uses that time to go after Ursus. He uses his telekinesis to pick him up and pointedly ignores the exhaustion that seeps into his brain and body at the movement. 

 

Izaya’s spikes knock out the final support for the building just as Varona throws her attack. He braces for impact, for the bolt to pierce into his chest like a knife and light him ablaze before Ursus, but nothing happens. Izaya is thrust into darkness and keeps his eyes shut. There’s silence. There’s cold. There’s nothing. 

 

Then there’s a blue light, just beyond the skin of Izaya’s eyelids.  They flutter open with the breeze that ruffles his cloak behind him. He’s on the roof of his apartment building. He’s surrounded by familiar buildings, and sights, and sounds, and the moon is impossibly large in the sky as he stares at it. 

 

Izaya falls to his knees then. The weight of his injuries is too much. He’s too tired to do much else as he spits out the blood that filled his mouth from the over exertion. He touches his face, pushing his fingers passed the illusion of fabric and feels them come away warm and wet. 

 

It’s blood. 

 

Blood from his eyes and nose that have dripped down his face like tears at the amount of strength he pushed through his body to get them here in time. 

 

Ursus is lying behind him when he turns. The injury looks a lot worse than it probably is. Izaya’s seen him take hits and stabs like no one has ever seen, and Izaya isn’t too worried about it, but he still decides to bring him to Shinra. He has to go back to find Varona. 

 

He knows she isn’t dead.

 

He can feel it in his gut, and he can hear it in the whispers of his powers still lingering around the demolished building. They can’t find her, and he is too weak to go searching. 

 

First things first, Izaya needs to get Ursus to a doctor. He figures that Shinra is the best bet. They obviously seem to know each other if Ursus brought him to Shinra in the first place back when Izaya was hurt, and he could use another check up with the blood dripping from his face like rain water.

 

He really overdid it this time.

 

Izaya gathers what’s left of his dignity and strength and crawls over to Ursus. His breathing is normal, if a little shallow, and he’s still out cold. He’s so warm– even with the distance between them, Izaya can feel it cradle him like a cocoon. Izaya lays down beside Ursus. He places his head on the other’s chest just to hear the gentle thrumming of his heartbeat against his ear ear. Placing his hand in Ursus’, he delivers a gentle kiss to parted lips. 

 

They really need to get going, but the more and more Izaya thinks about it, can he really pass up this opportunity? He finally gets a chance to find out who Ursus is– the man that has consumed every waking thought since they met. He can’t just pass up that opportunity right? 

 

Yes he can.

 

He has to.

 

He can not even begin to imagine the trust he would lose if he did something as stupid as that. Ursus will tell him in time. They will share their secrets and everything will be okay.

 

He hopes.

 

But that’s all Izaya can really do– just sit and hope for the best. He can sit and hope that Ursus, or whoever he is under his mask, will love Izaya just as much as Izaya loves him. No matter who he is, Izaya would still love him. He’s sure of it. He can feel it in his chest when his heart skips a beat at the idea of waking up to this man’s face every morning, can feel it in the onslaught of emotion he feels when they kiss. He’s never loved anyone like this before. He doesn’t even love his dear humans as much as this. This is different. It’s pure and real and raw and Izaya wants to be all consumed by it. It’s not like he isn’t already. 

 

Izaya pecks his lips one more time before hugging his body close to his and concentrating heavily on transporting the both of them to Shinra’s couch (give or take a few feet respectively). He knows that this is gonna be it. Izaya knows he’s gonna pass out as soon as they arrive, but he also knows that he can trust Shinra to protect him and his secrets. It feels good, he thinks, to have someone he can trust again.

 

With a small smile at the notion, Izaya moves them both. The cold envelopes them both and slips from them just as quickly. He vaguely hears a concerned Shinra call out what he thinks is his name, however it’s all blurred with the unconsciousness bleeding into his brain like Izaya’s bleeding into Shinra’s couch.

 

He sleeps after that, deep and heavy, and intentionally avoiding the problems he’s going to have to answer to when he wakes up. 

 

When he does wake up, he feels fuzzy. He feels more like he’s having an out-of-body experience– like he’s there watching himself from a third person rather than seeing his life through his own eyes. 

 

Shinra’s talking to Celty about someone. Izaya thinks it’s him for a second and blearily opens his eyes. He can’t make anything out aside from the two blurry figures hovering over his bed. 

 

“Try not... move,” Shinra says with what Izaya can barely make out as a sympathetic smile. 

 

The doctor’s hand reaches down and Izaya registers the feeling of a cool hand against his forehead before he falls asleep again. 

 

This time when he wakes up, he can see Ursus sitting next to his bed. He’s holding his hand gently– his chest rising and falling in steady motions. His head is down with his face buried into the mattress. Ursus isn’t wearing his goggles. There’s a bandage wrapped around the back of his head instead. Izaya can spot the blood peeking around the top of his bandage. He drags his eyes lazily across his own body. 

 

There’s a big cast on his arm that’s already adorned with Shinra’s name and a big fat heart. He smiles weakly. Izaya can feel the way the brace around his ribs chokes his breathing, but he can’t feel any pain, which is a first. His suit still seems intact as he notices the black swimming across his neck and around his nose. 

 

Ursus’ grip on his hand tightens ever so slightly, and Izaya sighs. He can’t really move much aside from his eyes. His eyelids feel heavy as they tug down into his field of vision. He’s still tired, and as he can’t really do much but rest up anyway, he figures he might as well sleep. Izaya closes his eyes again.

 

They open when Shinra starts squeezing the pressure cuff around his arm. 

 

“Just checking your vitals.” He smiles. “He’s really worried about you, you know? You should heal faster. He wants to talk to you, okay?”

 

Izaya smiles. He was worried. Unfortunately, Ursus wanted to talk, and that could mean a plethora of things, good and bad. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about how much he wanted to kiss Ursus and let Ursus have him–  _ all of him _ – every aspect of him from his current joy to the sins of his past. He didn’t want to hide anymore, and he wasn’t going to. He was going to show Ursus who he was, and how dedicated he was to this  _ thing _ that they had built together. 

 

Izaya tried to stand at that point, but his feet never touched the ground. He hovered in front of Shinra, the blanket falling off his hips and to the floor.

 

“Iza- Itzal!! You shouldn’t be using your powers so dubiously! You’ve been bedridden for days!” Shinra squeaked.

 

“I...” His voice sounded off to his own ears, too low and too full of emotion, “I need to see him. I promise I’ll come back to bed, but I need to see him. Where is he?”

 

“On the roof,” Shinra stated, concern still quivering in his voice. 

 

Izaya leaves after that.  He heads out the window, his powers still not allowing his feet touch the ground. 

 

Ursus is leaning across the edge of railing when Izaya spots him. His mask is back on, goggles in place, and Izaya snakes his way between him and the cigarette he was about to smoke and kisses him slowly. He’s surprised to say the least, and wastes now time dropping the lit cigarette in favor of wrapping his arms around Izaya’s abdomen as gently as he can manage and pulling him onto the roof. 

 

Izaya feels like he’s on fire again. He didn’t notice the chill that had set into his bones with the absence of real physical contact until now. It burns his skin in the best of ways and he can’t help but melt.

 

“Wait,” Ursus sighs, “There’s... something I wanted to tell you.” 

 

Here it comes– the big reveal. All of that time spent waiting has finally lead to this moment, and when Ursus reveals himself, Izaya will do the same. They will be happy, and they will be in love, and Izaya will accept him for whoever he is.

 

Ursus tears his goggles off before peeling back the spandex that wraps the rest of his face. His eyes open and he looks so trustingly happy and–

 

_ Oh no _ .

 

Of course. It had to be him. Who else could it have been? 

 

He should have known. Izaya should have known better than to immediately cross him off his list. 

 

A kind honey gaze settles nicely over his unbelieving eyes. He’d wanted this look to be directed at him for years and now that he has it, it  _ burns _ with an evil realization. His bottle blonde hair is sticking up in awful ways. Dried blood flakes off beneath his bandage of the wound Izaya wasn’t quick enough to stop. His smile is just as gentle and pure as his voice when he speaks, the words breaking Izaya’s entire world around him. He would never love Izaya. He couldn’t possibly bring himself to love Izaya. 

 

“My name is Shizuo Heiwajima. You saved me a while back and I never really got the chance to thank you.”   

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone, give a warm welcome to the newest member of the "Night Watch" team- katbutts! She is a great friend of both of ours and is working with us as a beta and has drawn us some amazing fan art that I will pop links to in the author's notes!


End file.
